


Baby Boy

by SushiOwl



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Daddy Kink, Dating, Full Shift Werewolves, Lingerie, M/M, Masturbation, Online Relationship, Panties, Possessive Behavior, Power Dynamics, Praise Kink, Riding, Sex Toys, Spanking, Webcam/Video Chat Sex, Werewolves, a kind of submissive headspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 20:51:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 74,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3623874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SushiOwl/pseuds/SushiOwl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What the heck is FetLife?</p><p>Stiles is too curious for his own good, and he can't help himself, so he joins a website advertising to be a good place for "kinksters." He just wants to be nosy and see what total strangers are up to. Then he meets Peter, who wants to be called Daddy.</p><p>Could Stiles be his baby boy?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [taylorpotato](https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylorpotato/gifts).



> Hello, yes, I have dug my own little place out of the Steter trash pile. Daddy kink is a new thing for me, so let's see how this goes!
> 
> Beta read by [WhatTheHale.](http://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthehale)
> 
> I **do not** give my consent to have my works listed on goodreads.

What a day to leave his charger at home. Stiles was sitting in the quad, whispering urgently at his laptop not to die. He was so close to finishing his essay for the class he had in about an hour. But the battery was beyond warning him now, and the screen faded to black. Well, that was one reason he wrote all his stuff in Google Docs these days. 

Groaning, he shoved his laptop in its bag and getting up. Did he have time to run to his apartment and finish his essay before class? Probably, but he was too damn lazy. He headed for the library instead, figuring he could get his essay done on a ten year old computer and print it for 15 cents. 

When he got to the library, he cursed softly to himself because all the computers were taken. He circled around them like a vultures until someone got up, and he swooped in to take the spot. There were a couple tabs open, and he closed the first one, thinking he could just type in the address for Google Drive on the second one, but the content of the page made him stop.

What the heck was FetLife?

It looked like a social networking site, and when he found the logout button, he pushed it so the welcome page came up. His eyes went a little wide. That was definitely a woman in some seriously intricate bondage, rope looping around her body, above and below her breasts. Above the picture it said, 'FetLife is the world's most popular FREE social network for BDSM, Fetish and Kinky communities.'

The picture changed to a woman sitting facing away from the viewer, showing off her full back tattoo of an Asian style dragon and some koi. She was looking her shoulder alluringly as he held up a pair of wide fans of red feathers. As Stiles watched, the picture changed again, this time to a man bound and gagged, doubled over on his knees with a woman looming over him in nothing but a corset and knee high leather boots. She had her heel against his back, holding him down and making him submit.

_Oh._

There was a list of reviews on the side, and he read each one.

'Candidly, I LOVE this place. I keep telling my friends that someone finally got it right,' said the author of SM 101.

 **Naughtyjamie** had this to say, ‘I have never had a place on myspace or otherwise because those sites are a bit… icky! This is wonderfully not icky!’

Not icky was good.

‘I am totally impressed. I love the feel of the interface, I love the concept, I am going to tell every kinky friend I know to join,’ said someone in Ontario, Canada.

‘FetLife is invaluable for finding friends and making connections. It singlehandedly got me a social life in my area ’ wrote someone who identified as a 22GQ switch. 

What was GQ? He opened another tab and typed in ‘GQ meaning’. He doubted it was ‘gentleman’s quarterly,’ so he clicked on different links. Oh, genderqueer! Right.

‘Great website. I have been checking out facebook but I have to keep it somewhat neutral as vanilla family and friends are there. Its great to have somewhere to go where you don't have to hide anything.’ said someone with the handle **shy_but_sassy.**

Stiles had never thought of that. It was kind of nice, actually. It was good that kinky people had a place just for them.

There were nearly four million members, so they had to be doing something right. The site went on to boast;  
**1.** It's Free as in Facebook and Google free.  
**2.** Meet and make new kinky friends.  
**3.** Get in touch with your local community.  
**4.** Be accepted for who you are.  
**5.** Designed by the community for the community.

Stiles chewed his lip, his curiosity getting the better of him. He wanted to explore the site and see what all the kinky people were up to. He'd always been into femdom porn, so that made him a kinkster too, right?

Then he remembered his essay. He would come back to the site later, maybe when he got home after classes. He brought up his Google doc and got back to work, the back of his mind buzzing.

When the day of class was over, Stiles unlocked his bike from the rack outside the science building and headed home. It wasn't too far off campus, but Stiles pedaled faster than usual, eager to get to what he'd been thinking about for two classes.

When he got to the apartment, he hoisted his bike up onto his shoulder and ascended the two flights of stairs to his apartment. The trip used to make him winded, but after three years living there he'd developed a strong core and even stronger calves.

"I have returned!" Stiles announced as he walked into the apartment. There was an unenthusiastic 'yay' from down the hall in the living room, and Stiles scowled. He left his bike in the entryway under the hooks where everyone's keys hung.

When he entered the living room, he found his best friend being sandwiched between both his girlfriend, Allison, and his boyfriend, Isaac. Scott was huddled in a blanket, sniffing loudly. His nose and cheeks were red, and his eyes looked crusty.

"Still feel like the poo?" Stiles asked.

"Yeah," Scott answered, voice all nasal-y.

Allison shifted even closer and gave Scott a kiss on the cheek. "You're better than you were yesterday," she told him gently in a soft voice like she was afraid he was fall apart if she talked too loudly.

"Yeah," Scott said again, before he sniffed loudly then leaned his head on Allison’s shoulder.

"Well, that's all fine and gross," Stiles said, plopping down in his cushy armchair and pulling his laptop out of his bag. "I'll leave you three to that." He grabbed his charger cord where he'd left it plugged into the wall and hanging over the arm of the chair. He started to boot up his computer.

"Do you have homework?" Allison asked.

"Not exactly. I stumbled upon this site," Stiles said as he waited for his laptop to connect to the internet, ever the slow poke. "It's kind of like Facebook, but it's for people that are into S&M." There was a moment of silence after he said that, and he looked up at his friends. "What?"

"Are you into S&M?" Isaac asked, looking like he wasn't at all surprised.

"Noooo," Stiles said, shaking his head. "I'm just curious about people who are and what they get up to on the Internet. I might talk to a few of them. Think if it as a _social experiment_." He made jazz hands.

"You're weird," Isaac said.

"Well, it's good I don't care about your opinion then, huh?" Stiles said with a huff, almost sticking his tongue out at him.

"I think it's cool, Stiles," Scott said, closing his eyes and sniffing again.

"Thank you, bro. You're the best." Stiles looked down at the laptop and opened a browser, typing in fetlife.com.

And down the rabbit hole he went.

Making a profile was about as easy as it could be. He filled out all the information about himself, like where he was--Berkeley, CA--and so on. The hardest part was coming up with a nickname. He had his defaults, such as Sex_Machine, Red24, BettaThanU and a few others, but they were either too playful or not playful enough.

He decided to go with The_Stiles, because that was straightforward enough.

When given the options for gender, Stiles had expected male and female. The list, however, was way more inclusive: male, female, trans male to female, trans female to male, genderqueer, genderfluid, intersex, butch and femme. He felt a little bland for just picking male.

Next was sexual orientation, and Stiles was expecting a pretty long list: straight, heteroflexible, bisexual, homoflexible, gay, lesbian, queer, pansexual, fluctuating/evolving, asexual and unsure. Stiles would have liked to say that he was firmly bisexual, since that was what he told people. But the only woman to turn his head and make him walk into things was Lydia. He found himself staring at more men these days. So, he picked homoflexible.

Next was role, and he figured it would be top, bottom and switch, but he was wrong again. The list went on and on: dominant, domme, switch, submissive, master, mistress, slave, pet… He had to stop and stare in confusion at the words kajira and kijirus. He opened another tab and found that they were the names for female and male slaves in a book series. Right then, moving on: top bottom, sadist, masochist, sadomasochist, daddy, mommy, baby boy, baby girl, brat, primal, fetishist, kinkster, hedonist, vanilla and unsure. He didn’t know where to begin with that, so he just picked unsure.

As for what he was looking for, he picked mentor and friend. Hopefully people would message him looking to educate him.

When his account was made, he was given the option to upload a picture of himself. Hm, did he have any good pictures? He searched through his laptop and found mostly pictures for assignments and ones of his friends and dad. He grabbed his phone, cursing the fact that the selfie fad had skipped him. Eventually he found a picture of him and Scott, arms looped over each other's shoulders. In the photo, he was smiling, carefree. It would do. He transferred it to his computer, cropped it so it was just him, and uploaded it to the site.

Next was the About Me section of the profile, and Stiles pressed his lips to his steepled fingers as he thought about what to say. He didn’t want to make it obvious that he was doing this for giggles, because then no one would message him. He decided to just jot some info about him down and make it general.

_Hi, I'm Stiles. That's a nickname, but my real name is Polish and only three people alive know how to say it let alone spell it. I am a college student at the University of Berkeley. I'm in my third year, and I'm a biology major, namely marine biology. I love anything having to do with the flora and fauna of the sea. That’s kind of boring, huh?_

_I’m not very kinky. I mean, I haven’t done anything like that, so I don’t know if I would like it? I figured this would be the place to find out._

That was lame, but oh well, it wasn’t like this was _important_ or anything.

After clicking all the buttons and exploring for a bit--including getting distracted by pictures that people posted, both hot and terrifying--Stiles finally found the Novices & Newbies forum. He opened the Introduce Yourself thread and was met with big red letters that said NO PERSONAL ADS. Well, alright then. After reading a few introductions that were little more than ‘Hi, I’m so-and-so,’ Stiles opened his one reply and said, ‘Hi, I’m Stiles, and I’m new here.’

He went exploring again, and he was happy to see that there was a Kinky and Geeky forum. There were subsections for video games, comics, movies, anime and more, and he clicked on the video games to find even more subsections. He ended up in the Assassin's Creed thread and found himself smiling at weird glitches people were experiencing.

Then he remembered he was doing this to find out what kinky people were up to, not gamers, and he went to clink on the main thread again. That was when he noticed the little 3 beside the envelope button, meaning he had some messages. He got really excited, really fast and clicked on the button.

His first message was from someone called **silk-rope123** and by the 34F submissive next to her name, he could tell her age, gender and preferred role. She wrote to him,

_Hi, Stiles!_

_My name is Tammy, and I greet newbies. I hope you are navigating the forums okay. The search bar is pretty much your best friend. Message me if you have any problems or concerns!_

That was really nice and not at all scary. He sent her a quick thank you then looked at the next message. It was someone that went by the handle **stronghand** 31M Master, and his message was,

_Hey there, cutie. I'm in the Berkeley area too, just off campus. If you ever want to get together with someone that can show you a thing or two, we should trade info._

_Think about it._

Stiles stared at the message with slowly widening eyes. That was a bit further than he wanted to go with this. He deleted the message and hoped that wouldn't make him angry or anything.

The final message was from **ShutterKing** , and his details were 43M Daddy. He wrote, 

_Hello, Stiles,_

_Do you mind me asking what your Polish name is? I spent almost five months in Poland for my work, and I learned enough of the language to get around by myself._

Well that wasn't a question he'd expected. Usually he told people his first name was in Polish, and they were just like, 'Oh, that's nice,' and never brought it up again. He started to write out a response and was impressed with himself for knowing how to make the special character with an alt code without having to look it up.

_My real name is Sobiesław. It was my grandfather's name, on my mom's side. I came up with the name Stiles when none of the other kids could pronounce my name. First day of preschool, and every already thought I was weird._

He stopped himself before he ranted any further. He could be a little be of a rambler when he was left to his own devices. He was pretty sure this ShutterKing didn’t want to know all that. He hit Send and and sat back to wait. He turned his head to watch the TV the others were fixated on, and the only sound besides it was Scott’s sniffling.

When he looked back at the screen, there was a new message from ShutterKing, and it read,

_Is the pronunciation saw-BYES-wahf? That's my best guess, to be honest. I realized I asked for your name without giving you mine. I'm Peter._

Stiles was completely surprised and a little impressed. He wrote back,

_That’s it exactly! You’re the first person to get it right on the first try. What kind of work took you to Poland, if it’s okay for me to be nosy?_

After hitting Send, Stiles clicked on Peter’s handle and opened his profile in another window. He actually wasn’t expecting to see the profile picture of Peter and have his throat become _parched._ He was a handsome man with a strong nose and chin, high cheekbones, startlingly blue eyes, full lips and a partial goatee that Stiles wanted to rub with his fingers. It was probably so soft.

Stiles tore his eyes away from that picture and looked at the info next to it:  
**Orientation:** Bisexual  
**Relationship Status:** Looking  
**Active:** I Live The Lifestyle When I Can  
**Looking For:** Friendship, A Lifetime Relationship, Baby Boy

Stiles switched back to the other tab, feeling weirdly eager now, and he was pleased to see another message from Peter.

_My ego is properly inflated now. And don’t worry about being nosy. I am the type that likes to share. Information, that is. ;) I am a fashion photographer, so I travel all over the world for shoots. If you want to see some of the places I’ve been, I have lots of photos uploaded. (As I shamelessly promote myself.)_

_What got you into marine biology?_

Stiles hid his smile behind his fingers, amused and feeling fondness for this man he’d only just met. Over the Internet. There was just something about his words that made Stiles all warm. He bit his lip and clicked the tab with Peter’s profile and started going through the pictures. 

They were absolutely gorgeous. There were a lot of scenery pictures, all with the name of the place in the description. A pretty woman lying in a gondola, surrounded by black roses in Venice, Italy for Vogue Italia. A man with a stunning jaw line sitting at a bistro in Paris, France for Vogue Paris. A few more, and Stiles was sensing a pattern. Peter was a photographer for all the Vogue companies, and Lydia was going to be super jealous.

Speaking of the ginger queen, the door was opening and shutting, which meant she was home, since she and Jordan were the only people that lived in the apartment other than the ones already in it. “We’re back,” she sang as she entered the room, bags hanging off her wrists and Jordan trailing after her. “How do you feel, honey?” she asked, setting the bags on the coffee table and looking to Scott.

Scott sniffled loudly in response. 

“We got you some matzoh ball soup,” Jordan said, digging around in a bag until he found the soup container. “My bubbe used to make it when I was sick. It always used to make me feel better.” He handed it and a plastic spoon over to Scott.

“Thanks,” Scott said, freeing his arms from his blanket and taking it.

“Did you go to Saul’s?” Stiles asked, and Lydia answered by handing him a sandwich. He could just smell the corned beef. “Hell yeeeaaah,” was his opinion as he unwrapped the juicy sandwich and took a big bite. It was better than sex.

Not that he had a reference point or anything. 

He kept looking through the pictures, of which there were about a hundred. Peter's handle was fitting, because he was a total shutterbug. Stiles liked the selfies most, the three or four that he'd seen. Peter was just so handsome and composed. The shot of him in an open leather jacket to exposed his naked chest, wide aviators and a smirk was unspeakably hot.

Stiles wanted on that, but the man was twice his age. That should have concerned him more than it did.

He went back to the window with messages and answered,

_Your photos are amazing. I bet you make the big bucks with a portfolio like that. I really like the one of the girl in a white dress in the field, surrounded by wild flowers. It pops._

_I got into marine biology in high school. I got placed in the class by accident, but once I was there I didn't want to leave. I got to raise a lobster from a hatchling. His name was George, and he was awesome. He only pinched me once, and it was my fault._

_What got you into photography?_

"What has you so smiley?" came Lydia's voice, and Stiles looked up at her after hitting Send on his message.

"Huh?" he asked, blinking.

Lydia set her grilled cheese with mushrooms in her lap, flicking crumbs from her fingers. "You're quiet, and you're grinning like crazy."

"He found a website with a bunch of freaks into weirdo sex stuff, so he's finally happy he is among like-minded people," Isaac provided flatly.

That made Lydia and Jordan both look at him curiously.

"That's not--" Stiles growled, pausing. "That's not _entirely_ true. Yes, it's a website for kinky people, but so far everyone's been very nice, and I haven't been asked anything weird. The guy I'm talking to now just wanted to know what my real first name is and about my major."

"He probably wants to put you over his knee and spank you," Jordan teased with a smile.

"Don't give anyone your address," Lydia said, a grin crossing her face. "They might kidnap you and take you to their sex dungeon."

With a loud, exasperated sigh, Stiles unplugged his charger. "If you will excuse me," he said, gathering the cord and his sandwich on the keyboard of his laptop and standing up. "I will be in my room, being a mature adult." He flounced off dramatically.

"Don't forget to open a window to air out the room after," Isaac called after him, and everyone else laughed as Stiles flipped him off over his shoulder. 

Stiles opened and shut his bedroom door a bit louder than necessary, before he climbed onto his bed, piled his pillows behind his back and settled in. He chowed down on the rest of his sandwich as he waited for Peter to answer his message. He was almost done when the little 1 popped up next to the button.

_I do, in fact, make quite a lot of money doing what I do. That sounds like bragging. But I love it, and I am proud of my accomplishments._

_Photography wasn't the first career I had in mind. I had a basketball scholarship, but I tore my ACL and that went down the drain. I picked up a camera later, because a girl I liked was in the photography club at the college, and I wanted to impress her. I found I am good at it and have stuck with it._

_Whatever happened to George the lobster?_

Stiles couldn’t stop smiling. His face was starting to hurt. Peter was a delight.

_George and the rest of the lobsters were set free. I might have cried a little when he swam off to live his own life. I hope he's still out there. Lobsters have impressively long lifespans, like 30+ years._

_I know what it's like to join something to impress a girl. I joined the lacrosse team for a girl named Lydia. I convinced my best friend to join too so I wasn't too obvious. We were both REALLY bad though. I never got the girl, but it's better this way. She is one of my roommates and a close friend._

He switched over to Peter’s profile to check something. Then he added,

_What’s it like living in New York? Do you have a high rise apartment? Is the city really loud and fast paced? Are the people super rude? Do you drive or take public transportation?_

He hit Send and devoured the rest of his sandwich, balling up the wrapper and tossing it in the general direction of the trash can. It was getting close to the time when he rolled into his pajamas and read Buffy The Vampire Slayer fanfiction on his phone until he passed out. He wasn't eager to stop talking to Peter though.

When he got his next message, he opened it eagerly, and it read,

_I love the city. I used to live outside of it in the suburbs, but when I started making so much money I did, in fact, move into a high rise apartment. The view is spectacular at night when all the lights are on. I'm also facing the sunrise._

_The city can be loud, but it's a comforting noise. I like crowds and the bustle of the people. Some people are rude, but there are nice ones too. It varies. Everyone is definitely in a hurry. I take the train and cabs usually. I have my own car, but I save it for long trips. I learned my lesson about traffic quickly._

_I hope this isn't too forward, but I enjoy talk to you. Could we talk in real time? Skype, perhaps?_

Stiles’s eyes went a little wide, and he was surprised at his own eagerness to make this happen. He licked his lips as he answered, 

_Sure, that sounds cool. My username is BadassBlue. Feel free to add me._

It didn't take long before there was a notification popping up at the corner of his screen. 'PeterH would like to add you as a friend,' it said.

Stiles clicked accept, and the Skype window covered half of his screen. He popped his knuckles.

 **Stiles:** hi

 **Peter:** Hello, Stiles.

Stiles realized his brain had gone empty immediately. He groaned and rubbed his eyes.

 **Stiles:** do you ever want to talk to someone and suddenly have nothing to say?

 **Peter:** Always.

 **Peter:** I must ask though. What is your Skype name about? BadassBlue?

 **Stiles:** oh that’s my Jeep. he’s blue and his name is Roscoe. he died last year, and I might have cried, because I’ve had him since I was 16.

 **Peter:** Ah. I never got around to naming my car. 

**Stiles:** what kind do you have?

 **Peter:** Silver Lexus RC F. I just got it a few months ago.

Stiles had to look it up, because he didn’t know what that looked like right off the bat. He let out a little whistle at the Lexus site. All tricked out, the car was $80,000.

 **Stiles:** that car is sweeeeet. I bet it rides so smooth.

 **Peter:** It does. I like it quite a lot.

 **Peter:** So, how is your night? Anything exciting happening?

 **Stiles:** nah

 **Stiles:** It’s just a quiet night at home for me. my best friend is sick as a dog so he’s not up to videogames or anything. Lydia-the one I told you about-brought us all food from a deli called Saul’s. 

**Peter:** How many roommates do you have?

 **Stiles:** 5

 **Peter:** A large apartment then?

 **Stiles:** 3 bedrooms. it’s me in one room, then Lydia and Jordan in the next, and there’s Scott, Isaac and Allison in the master.

 **Peter:** Is there a bunk bed in that situation, or are you friends polyamorous? 

**Stiles:** oh they’re totes a threesome

 **Stiles:** it works for them

 **Peter:** That’s lovely.

 **Stiles:** they’re pretty awesome

 **Stiles:** they figured it out in high school, which is totally impressive

 **Stiles:** it’s like they all sat down and were like “well I like you, but I also like you, and you both like me, soooo” 

**Peter:** I would not be able to do that. I do not like to share.

 **Stiles:** same

 **Stiles:** it’s never really come up with me though

 **Peter:** No infidelity from your lovers?

 **Stiles:** no lovers to commit infidelity

 **Peter:** Oh? Ever?

 **Stiles:** never

 **Peter:** No purely physical relationships either?

 **Stiles:** nope

 **Peter:** Not even a one night stand?

 **Stiles:** nah

There was a pause, and Stiles stared at the little indicator that Peter was typing.

 **Peter:** Are you a virgin, Stiles?

Stiles bit his lip. It wasn’t something he was proud of, to be honest. And it wasn’t from lack of trying. He just got too flustered and weird around people he thought were hot and would look good naked. 

**Peter:** You don’t have to tell me, of course.

 **Peter:** I rather like you, Stiles, and I don’t want to cause you any discomfort.

Sucking at his bottom lip, Stiles felt a bloom of affection in his chest. He had to smile at how polite Peter was, even when asking such a personal question.

 **Stiles:** it’s okay and yeah I’m a virgin

 **Peter:** I thought so.

 **Stiles:** is this where you tell me you didn’t lose your virginity until super late to make me feel better?

 **Peter:** God no. Why lie? I was fourteen.

 **Stiles:** jeeeeeez

 **Peter:** It lasted a whole fifteen seconds.

 **Peter:** There’s no point in trying to make you feel better about something you shouldn’t be ashamed of anyway.

 **Stiles:** I’m not ashamed. I mean I probably masturbate more than the average person.

 **Peter:** Oh? Do tell.

 **Stiles:** um

 **Peter:** I’ll just come out and say it, Stiles. You are interesting, and I am attracted to you. I would love to hear about your late night activities.

 **Peter:** Even more, I’d love to watch.

 **Peter:** Do you have a webcam? Because I would pay to watch you masturbate.

 **Stiles:** you serious?

 **Peter:** There’s no point in lying to you. How does five hundred sound?

Stiles put his hands over his face and stared at the screen through his fingers. Was this really happening? Was someone really offering to pay him real money to watch him rub one out? This was so ridiculously sudden that Stiles was reeling from it. 

But… On the other hand, he couldn’t exactly deny the thrill that went up and down his spine at the very idea. He would be vulnerable and studied under Peter’s gaze. He would know how he moved, his jerking technique and how he let out little noises that he couldn’t help.

Stiles had never shared anything like that with anyone before. Did he want that?

He licked his lips.

 **Stiles:** let’s do it

 **Peter:** Wonderful. Do you have a PayPal?

He did. He used it to buy stuff online whenever he had just a bit of extra cash to spare. He was a poor college student with grants that barely covered his tuition, food and rent. That was another reason that getting paid to whack off was so appealing, but it wasn’t the _main_ reason.

He pulled up his PayPal and gave Peter his information.

 **Peter:** Give it a couple minutes. I want you to verify that I’m not trying to trick you.

 **Stiles:** kay

 **Peter:** I want you to trust me.

 **Stiles:** I do

Stiles was surprised at how true that was.

The money came through like Peter said it would, and Stiles let out a shaky sigh. This was really happening. 

**Stiles:** okay I’m ready. do you want me naked or?

 **Peter:** Do what makes you comfortable.

Stiles had no idea what that was. He decided to go ahead and take his shirt off, because he didn’t want to have to wrestle with it with his headset. He tossed his shirt toward his laundry basket, before he grabbed his wireless headset off his desk, putting it on. He sat up against the pillows and put the laptop in the V of his legs. He turned on his headset and pulled the mic down in front of his mouth.

 **Stiles:** ready

Immediately there was sound in his ears, a melodic _bee bah boop_ of the Skype call tone. Stiles took a deep breath and hit Answer. A black box blew up across his screen for a moment, before it changed, and there was Peter and his gorgeous face and broad shoulders and _shit._

Peter smiled. “Hello.”

Stiles bit his bottom lips as a smile spread across his face. He was practically giggling like freshman schoolgirl that was getting attention from a handsome upperclassman. “Hi,” he said, a bit breathy.

Peter leaned back a bit, showing off the soft looking gray v-neck he was wearing. Could necks be sexy? He was into necks now. That was a new thing for him, but Peter’s neck was fucking gorgeous. Just like the rest of him.

Slowly, Peter’s eyes trailed down then back up again, and his smile sharpened into a smirk. “You have delectable moles.” 

Stiles felt his face heat up, but his smile stayed. “Thanks,” he said, before he winced because _Thanks?_ Really?

Peter let out a laugh, and it was like a caress, like fingers trailing up his spine. Jesus God, he had a stirring in his pants and he didn’t even have to resort to porn. Just Peter looking at him brought heat to his skin. Yeah, this was going to be an easy $500. 

“So how should I…?” Stiles started to ask, before he tilted the computer screen down a bit. “Is that a good view of my crotch, or no?”

Peter snorted in his ear. “Push you computer away from you a bit and lift the screen. I want to see your face just as much as your dick.”

“Really?” Stiles said, blinking as he did as told. “My face isn’t very exciting.”

“I disagree,” Peter said with a lifted brow. “You are quite adorable. I want to see the way you flush, the way your mouth parts and the way you bite your lips.” 

Stiles’s blush did not go away. "Oh," he said, unsure what to do with that. Without thinking, he reached down and palmed himself through his pants.

Peter’s eyes tracked the movement. "Does it turn you on to hear how beautiful you are?" he asked in a low voice like a whisper in the dark. "Obviously you don't hear it enough then."

"Not really," Stiles admitted, stroking the hard line of his dick under the fabric of his jeans. It was strange having the focus on him instead of him focusing on getting to his orgasm as fast as possible so he could sleep.

Peter hummed softly, shifting forward to lean his cheek against his hand. "If I were there, I wouldn't let you forget it. I'd whisper it in your ear as I touched you."

Stiles let out a soft gasp as he thumbed the head of his dick.

"Take off your pants, but leave your underwear on," Peter instructed, in a low but firm way. 

Stiles hurried to obey, nearly kicking the laptop off the bed. Once he got his pants off, he realized that he had his Flash boxers on, and that would be embarrassing enough if they weren't tented by his cock. He covered his eyes with his hand. "If I had known I was putting on a show, I would have worn sexier clothes."

Peter chuckled in his ear. "I find it charming."

Stiles lifted his hand off his eyes and found Peter smiling on the screen. Where had this guy come from? Did he have a fetish for awkward college students?

"Touch yourself for me," Peter said, and Stiles licked his lips, his hand rubbing his dick through his boxers. "I bet your cock is damp at the head, and you want so badly to pull it out and stroke it, don't you?"

Stiles nodded with a whimper, unable to get a hand around his dick with his boxers on. It was more of a tease than anything. "Can I?" he asked, his cock jumping at the idea of asking permission.

Peter grinned at him, teeth white and eyes sharp. "How did I get so lucky to find a boy like you?" he purred, before he licked his lips and gave a nod. "Go ahead and pull it out. I want to see it."

Stiles fished his cock out through the hole in his boxers, whimpering as he stroked himself with no barriers. It was sweet pleasure.

There was a soft intake of breath in his ear. "Lovely," Peter said in a murmur. "Stroke just like that, slow and easy. Don't be too eager."

A whine left Stiles’s throat. He felt eager. He felt like he was on fire. He gasped as he twisted his hand over the head of his dick, mouth falling open.

"You can't be too loud with your roommates in the other room, can you?" Peter asked, and Stiles shook his head. "That's a shame. I would like you loud and slutty."

Stiles bit his lips together to halt a surprised sound, his cock jumping in his hand. So, dirty talk was a thing for him. He gripped the base of his dick to stave off the orgasm that threatened to crest over him.

"You like being told what to do, don't you?" Peter asked, and Stiles’s face heated up to the tips of his ears. "How wonderful for me. Go faster, baby. I want you to come because you want to please me."

Fuck, he did. He wanted Peter to love the show, wanting him to ask for more. He stroked himself as he put his head back and closed his eyes.

Peter didn't approve of that, because he let out a soft hiss. "Look at me," he said, and Stiles did. There was a fire in Peter’s blue eyes. "That's it. Keep looking at me, know that your pleasure is mine. Come for me, Stiles."

Stiles managed to bite back a moan as his bliss exploded within him, coming over his fingers and into his pubes. He gasped in the aftermath, his body loose and tingling. 

Peter took a deep breath and let out a contented sigh. "That, my dear, was delicious." The corner of his mouth twitched up.

Feeling giddy, Stiles let out a chuckle and reached for his tissues, cleaning himself up. "Was it really that good?" he asked, his body feeling tender and exposed. "I've never done anything like that before."

"It was absolutely perfect," Peter replied. "It would love a repeat performance sometime, with the same payment, of course."

Stiles let out a high, thready laugh. "Man, maybe I should go into business out of this. It's totally lucrative."

It was a joke, and he was expecting Peter to laugh, but instead the man frowned. "I will pay you one thousand dollars a week for exclusivity," he said in a blunt tone.

Stiles blinked owlishly. "You serious?"

"As I said," Peter replied with a sharp smile. "I do not share." He sat back and tilted his chin up a fraction. "I would not expect you to put on a show on a nightly basis. Once a week is fine. But I cannot stand the thought of anyone else watching you."

That should have been weird. It was weird, wasn't it? It was possessive and creepy. But Stiles had never been the center of anyone's attentions before. Wait...

Stiles cleared his throat. "Okay, I'm down. But I have one condition."

"What's that?" Peter asked with a lifted brow.

"I'll be exclusive to you, but you have to do the same for me. I don't want any other boys sniffing around my man." He was a bit surprised at his own conviction.

Peter grinned at him without pause. "Deal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *high pitched giggling* I don't know what I'm doing, but I like it.
> 
> I will be updating this alternating with the [Pigments and Pentacles](http://archiveofourown.org/series/222317) series, so expect an update every two weeks.
> 
> Come say hi to me on [Tumblr. :D](http://thesushiowl.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Next update: **4/05/15**


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles had $1500 sitting in his PayPal account, and he felt like a child getting his first allowance. He wanted to buy all the things. The possibilities were endless! First, of course, he transferred enough money to his bank account to cover rent and food for the month. Well, maybe more for food than was necessary, but think of all the steak and ice cream he could buy!

He had no idea how to cook a steak on the stove, but it couldn't be that difficult, right?

After that, he went online and picked out shirts for himself. Then he got an awesome new gaming headset--since his was barely held together by superglue and faith--for $170. That was the biggest shopping spree he'd ever done, and he felt a bit stressed out afterward. Why was he buying shit when there were starving homeless people?

He should start a charity... or buy those $150 Green Lantern Converse high tops.

The point was, he felt rich all of the sudden. It was heady thinking he was going to get _more_ money. Was this how Lydia felt? Financial stability was a new thing for him.

The smile on his face faded slowly. He should send some of his money to his father every week. Maybe then the man could stop working seven days a week in twelve hour shifts. He sent $350 to his dad's bank account, figuring he could sent a larger amount next week.

"Wow, that was fast," Stiles said once he was out of money.

* * *

During his second class the next day, his pocket buzzed, and he glanced at it.

From Pops: 1:43pm  
_Call me ASAP_

Immediately, he assumed the worst. Did his dad have a heart attack? Did he get hurt at work? Did he get fired?

Stiles was barely able to concentrate on the lesson, and afterward his fingers were shaking as he brought up his dad's contact info and hit the call button. He braced his hand on a column in the walkway between the science and arts buildings, listening to the ringing.

"Hello?" came his dad's gruff voice.

"Heeeey, dad, what's up? You okay? Is everything alright?" he said in a rush.

"I'm fine," his dad said with a chuckle. "Everything is fine, Stiles."

Stiles sagged against the column with a heavy sigh. "What's with the text then? You had me all kinds of worried."

"I wanted to ask where you got the money you sent me," John replied. "Did you get a job, son?"

Stiles’s brain froze for a moment. Of course his dad would want to know where his sudden wealth came from. 

"Stiles?" his dad asked when he didn't say anything.

"Uh! Yeah, yeah. I got a job. You know, work-study program. I'm helping out with the science department. No biggie."

"Oh," John said, and he sounded pleased. "Well, keep the money. I'm doing just fine, and you deserve some extra cash. I want you to have fun while you're in college. Okay, kiddo?"

Stiles had to smile to himself. Of course his dad wouldn’t want the money. “Okay, but I’m not taking what I gave you back. You should totally take Melissa out to dinner and a movie.”

“Stiles,” John sighed out.

“I’m just saying,” Stiles sang with a laugh.

* * *

After classes, Stiles skedaddled back home, ready to get on his computer. He was proud of himself for not logging in FetLife or Skype all day during class, but then the school WiFi was spotty at best. When he got into the apartment, panting a little from jogging up the stairs with his bike, he went to go into his room, but then he spotted a miserable Scott on the couch, curled up in a blanket and looking small.

“Heeey, sicky,” Stiles said, putting his bag in the chair and going over to pat his friend’s damp hair. “You look terrible.”

Scott let out a wet chuckle. “Thanks,” he said with a sniff.

“You’re doing better today though, right?” Stiles asked him with an exaggerated pout. 

“Yeah,” Scott said. “I even took a shower today.”

“Oh good, so this is water, not sweat,” Stiles said, his hand on Scott’s head. “That’s comforting. Have you eaten?” When Scott shook his head, Stiles sighed. “Let me get you some saltines and a Sprite.” He went to go do that, and afterward he sat with Scott, making sure he ate a bunch of the crackers and drank all of the Sprite, and only moved away when Allison got home from class.

Stiles eagerly hopped onto his bed and and opened his laptop, because he’d been ready to talk to Peter all day. He wanted to play it cool like he wasn’t already obsessed, but obsessed was his default setting, just ask Lydia. He was going to try not to act like a total doofus, but he doubted he would succeed.

He logged into Skype, already grinning, but then his expression froze. Peter wasn’t online. That took the wind right out of his sails. What time was it in New York? It took him a moment to find a time converter. It was just after three in California, so it was around six where Peter was. Was he working? Stiles had no idea what photographer schedules were like.

Sinking back against the pillows, Stiles couldn’t help his pout. He knew it was irrational, but he couldn’t help it. No one had ever given him the kind of attention that Peter did. He was gagging for it.

He wanted to give Peter his money’s worth though. That was a big concern. Even with what Peter said, how he didn’t need to jerk off everyday, a grand a week was so much money. Stiles wanted to earn it, because he was afraid that if he got lazy with it, then Peter would get bored and find someone else.

With that in mind, Stiles pulled off all his clothes and hopped onto the bed with his laptop. Even if Peter wasn’t there, Stiles could put on a show and give it to him later. He brought up the video recording program, situating himself with his laptop between his legs. He tilted the lid of the computer to test where he wanted the camera to aim. Peter had said he liked his face, right?

Stiles grabbed his headset, hit the record button and waited until the little red indicator was flashing, before he cleared his throat. “Hey, Peter,” he said, forcing a bit of a smile and waving. at the cam. “I, uh… I wanted to do this for you. I hope you like it.” He swallowed, before he sat back and took himself in hand.

He wasn’t hard yet, and he felt a little awkward. This was easier with Peter’s voice in his ears. He eventually grabbed his lube to get things going, and he managed to bring himself off with a stilted gasp. He looked down at his come covered hand and let out a long sigh. Then he stopped the recording and went to clean up. Hopefully Peter would like that.

After pulling on a pair of sweats and forgoing underwear, Stiles pulled his computer into his lap and leaned back against the pillows. He logged onto FetLife, figuring he could mess around in the forums and explore the site a bit more. The Kinky and Geeky threads were calling him name.

What he wasn’t expecting was to have four messages waiting for him. His brows went up as he clicked the envelope icon. 

His first message was from someone called **awesome-fun2013** , and he was a 29 year old Master. He wrote, 

_hey sexy i want 2 cum on ur face lets get 2gether_

Stiles’s nose crinkled up in distaste. Wow. Okay. Delete.

Next, **Cookie-Monstress** , a 24F pet had this to say,

_Hi, Stiles! I’m a BDSM event coordinator in the Berkeley area. I host munches, which are totally low key get togethers for people in the lifestyle. They’re great for newbies! If you ever want to hang out with like minded people and maybe make a few friends, just shoot me a message._

_Alexis_

That was nice. It was definitely a 180° from the other message. He understood that people would use this website to find someone to bone, but damn, have a little class.

Pulling his lips to the side, he actually pondered the possibility of going to one of these munches. It sounded like a good opportunity to meet people and eat some free food. He was always down for free food. He left that message there so he could reply some other time.

The next message was much like the first, and Stiles deleted it without getting through the whole thing. **Jay8111** and his bad grammar could kiss Stiles’s ass. 

The final message was from someone called **catwoman94** , a 21F baby girl, and she wrote, 

_Hi! I’m new here too. If you want someone to talk to, just add me!_

Well that was nice. He clicked on her name to go to her profile. Her profile picture was a grey wash of a feather duster, a blindfold and a pair of handcuffs. She was in Berkeley as well, so maybe she attended those munches. Stiles wanted to know what they were like.

Her details were;  
**Orientation:** Straight  
**Relationship Status:** Baby Girl of **IronMilton**  
**Active:** 24/7  
**Looking for:** Friendship

 **About Me:** _Um… okay! I’ll just say what comes to my head. I’m pretty new to the lifestyle. For the longest time I didn’t even know I was interested, but then one of my play partners spanked and it was SO GOOD! After that, I started researching and stuff, and there is so much I want to do._

_I have a Daddy now, and he is the best! I love it when he puts me over his knee and tans my hide. Or when he picks what he wants me to wear out to a date and orders for me at a restaurant. When he ties me up I just go completely zen. And oh man the orgasms he can make me have, hehe! He only does what I am comfortable with, and he’s like a total cuddly bear._

_As for what I’m doing here, I want to make some friends. It fun to talk about this stuff so candidly. I don’t want to have to sugarcoat anything. Come be my friend!_

Stiles was smiling to himself, his cheeks a bit flushed. This was exactly the kind of connection that he had wanted to make. She seemed nice and approachable, and he could bet she had plenty of stories she wanted to share. He clicked on the Add To Friends button before going back to the message. 

He grinned as he typed to her,

_Hi! I added you. I’d love to talk. :)_

He went to mess around in the Kinky & Popular section of the site, clicking on a few picture of ladies all trussed up with brightly colored rope. How could someone look so pretty with a ball gag in? That wasn’t fair to the rest of the population of the world. 

When he clicked on a video, he frowned because it brought up a screen that said it was expensive to host videos, so only those that could support FetLife were allowed to watch them. $5 a month really wasn’t the much, especially given what Stiles had incoming, but it was kind of annoying from a site that claimed to be Free Like Facebook.

The box that said Kinky Chat at the lower right hand corner of his screen lit up, blinking, so he clicked on it.

 **catwoman94:** Hey!

 **The_Stiles:** oh hi!

 **catwoman94:** Are you doing something? Am I interrupting?

 **The_Stiles:** no no I'm just sitting here waiting for someone to come online

 **catwoman94:** Someone special? ;)

Stiles snorted to himself.

 **The_Stiles:** yeah he's pretty special. I met him yesterday and we just clicked ya know?

 **catwoman94:** I definitely know. Who is he? Is he on Fet? Can I see his profile? I'm so nosy, I'm sorry.

 **The_Stiles:** lol it's cool. give me a second to grab the link

Stiles switched tabs, opening up another FetLife window and clicking through to Peter’s profile via the Friends section. (He had a whole two friends now. Yay.) When it came up he highlighted the link and put it in the chat.

 **The_Stiles:** he's great and I'm pretty sure he likes me back

 **catwoman94:** Oh I would say so.

 **The_Stiles:** what do you mean?

 **catwoman94:** I think you should take a closer look at his profile. At the top. You can't miss it.

With a frown, Stiles clicked over to Peter’s profile again, glancing over it. He didn’t get what she meant. His picture was the same. His details were... His eyes went wide.

 **Relationship Status:** Daddy of **The_Stiles**

 **The_Stiles:** oh

 **catwoman94:** :D

 **catwoman94:** Is that a good thing?

 **catwoman94:** He didn’t just claim you without consulting you first riiiiiight?

 **The_Stiles:** no no it's cool

 **The_Stiles:** I mean

 **The_Stiles:** can I TMI at you?

 **catwoman94:** Sure. 

**The_Stiles:** he paid me 500 to jerk off for him

 **catwoman94:** Damn!

 **The_Stiles:** yeah and then he offered me 1000 a week to be exclusive to him

 **catwoman94:** Sounds like you have a sugar daddy. That’s practically a career. 

**The_Stiles:** right? I told him I was down but only if he did the same for me

 **catwoman94:** And he obviously agreed. His relationship status is a statement. Back off boys and girls, I'm taken. :D

 **The_Stiles:** I don't know how to feel about this

 **catwoman94:** It's what you wanted, isn't it?

 **The_Stiles:** yeah but thinking it and seeing it are two different things

It just so serious all of the sudden, like a dream that was abruptly reality. Stiles knew how he felt about Peter, but weren't relationships supposed to be slow? He had nothing to compare this to, of course, but this felt like a whirlwind. 

**catwoman94:** I think you need to talk to him and see if things are moving too fast for you. If he's the Daddy for you, then he'll understand.

 **The_Stiles:** okay yeah I'll do that

 **catwoman94:** :) You can always ask me if you're confused about anything.

 **The_Stiles:** what’s it like having a Daddy?

 **catwoman94:** How do you mean?

 **The_Stiles:** I mean having someone there to like

 **The_Stiles:** I dunno

 **The_Stiles:** control you?

 **catwoman94:** Boyd doesn’t control me. He gives me direction, but it’s always my choice to obey. If I don’t like something he suggests, I tell him.

 **The_Stiles:** oh

 **The_Stiles:** sorry

 **catwoman94:** It’s okay! I understand that it can be kind of confusing from the outside. I give him the reins because I like how freeing it feels to be so spoiled. It’s nice not having to make so many decisions a day, you know?

 **catwoman94:** Honestly day to day, there’s less of him telling me what to do and more of me walking all over him. But if he tells me no, I listen. There is back and forth. It’s not just him in control and me all swooning damsel.

 **catwoman94:** I dunno.

 **catwoman94:** I was in a really bad place when I met Boyd. He told me he wanted to make me feel like a princess and didn’t want anything in return.

 **catwoman94:** How could I resist?

 **The_Stiles:** that does sound nice

 **catwoman94:** Obviously your experience will be different. It’s your Daddy’s job to tailor how he cares for and commands you to your specific needs.

 **The_Stiles:** noted

 **catwoman94:** Seriously though, talk to him.

 **The_Stiles:** I will

They kept talking for a while after that, and Stiles was really starting to like this girl. He kept meaning to ask her name, but then he'd get distracted talking about something else. He learned that she liked sushi, so she always insisted they go out for it. Apparently she just had to bat her eyelashes to get what she wanted. She loved blueberries too, especially when her Daddy fed then to her by hand.

Stiles should have found it silly. **Catwoman94** was a grown woman being pampered and coddled. But instead, Stiles had to wonder if Peter would treat him the same way given the chance. Would he like it? Stiles didn’t know. But he wanted to find out.

 **catwoman94:** Wow look at the time. My Daddy is calling me to bed. TTYL?

 **The_Stiles:** sure I pretty much live online

 **catwoman94:** Hehe, goodnight then.

 **The_Stiles:** night

 **The_Stiles:** oh wait!

 **catwoman94:** Hm?

 **The_Stiles:** I've been meaning to ask... what's your name?

 **catwoman94:** Did I totally space and forget to tell you?

 **catwoman94:** It's Erica.

 **The_Stiles:** nice to meet you

 **catwoman94:** You too. =P  <3

After Erica logged off, Stiles let out a sigh and leaned back against his pillows. He for some reason felt more normal after talking to Erica about this stuff. He was certainly calmer.

Stiles was halfway through the first episode of iZombie when a little Skype box appeared at the corner of his screen. ‘Peter is online’ it said. Stiles bit his lip, bringing up the Skype window. 

**Stiles:** hey!

 **Peter:** Good evening, darling. I’m glad you’re still awake.

Stiles glanced at the time. Yeah, it was nearly the small hours of the morning. 

**Stiles:** I wanted to wait until I at least said hi to you

 **Peter:** I appreciate it. Mind if I call you? I had a long day and I feel like being incredibly lazy.

Stiles smiled to himself, imagining Peter flopped on his couch, all worn out from a hard day of taking pictures. He’d seen a season or two or all of America’s Next Top Model. He knew that photoshoots were serious business.  


**Stiles:** sure go ahead

The happy little tune started to trill in his ear, and Stiles hit accept. After a second of black screen, Peter’s face appeared. The computer seemed to be balanced on his chest, and he was nestled against his pillows, with what appeared to be damp hair sticking to his forehead. He looked soft and cuddly, and Stiles wanted to bury himself in him like a pillow.

“Hello, Stiles,” Peter said to him in a sigh.

“Hi,” Stiles replied, managing not to giggle. “Tough day?”

Peter snorted with a nod. “Yes, full of bitchy designers and even bitchier models. It’s days like this that I question my own sanity for getting into the business. Somedays it’s great, and somedays it’s _this_. I always want to strangle someone, occasionally myself.” He brought his hands up and vigorously rub his face with a frustrated sound, before he took a deep breath and let it out through his nose. “But nevermind that. How was your day?”

Stiles smiled at him. “Good. I made a new friend today.”

“Oh?” Peter asked. “On FetLife?”

“Yeah,” Stiles replied, picking up his laptop and laying it on his thighs instead of between his legs. “Her name is Erica, and she’s super nice. She had some very enlightening info for me."

"Such as?"

"What it means to have a Daddy, mostly. For her, anyway. She told me that my experience would be different, but just hearing about how happy she is makes me think... I could be happy too." Stiles licked his lips, looking away from the screen. "I saw you changed your relationship status on FetLife."

"I did," Peter said, almost gentle.

"Should I change mine to match?"

"That depends," Peter replied, and Stiles looked back at the screen to see Peter giving him a very serious look. "Do you want to be my baby boy?"

A full body shudder took Stiles, hair raising on his arms and the back of his neck. Well that was telling. "Y-yeah," he almost whispered, and Peter smiled at him, kind but with a sharp edge.

"Then it would please me greatly if you changed your status to match mine," Peter informed him with a nod. "I don't want anyone seeing how adorable you are and getting the wrong idea. If we do this, you're mine."

"Yours," Stiles said with an emphatic nod, his voice a bit shaky.

"And I'm yours. That's a vow." God, this man made it sound like a blood oath, something deeper and more primal than a promise.

"Okay," Stiles said, before he brought up his profile and found the edit button. Under relationship status he found the right options and then Peter’s handle.

 **Relationship Status:** Baby Boy of **ShutterKing**

"I did it," Stiles said, grinning from ear to ear because this was a beginning of a new part of his life. He was so excited.

"Wonderful. Thank you," Peter said, smiling wider too.

Then Stiles remembered something. "Oh, I made you a thing," he said, before he brought up the transfer file screen.

"Did you now?" Peter said as he hit accept. It was a pretty big file, so it was going to take a few minutes to download. Peter narrowed his eyes a little. "What is it?" he asked.

"You'll see," Stiles almost sang, his smile taking on a Cheshire cat quality.

"I'm terrible at waiting for things," Peter told him, eyes still slits. "I'm used to getting what I want immediately."

"I never would have guessed," Stiles told him, before he hid his smile behind his hand when Peter huffed in annoyance.

"Talk to me while I wait. How was your day?" Peter asked.

"My day was fine," Stiles said, sinking back into the pillows. "I bought a bunch of things with the money you gave me."

"Good. I want you spoiled rotten," Peter said.

Stiles snorted. "I definitely feel like that. I've never had so much money in my life. I'm going to buy so much expensive food when we go shopping."

"What kind?" Peter asked, smiling like he was amused.

"I dunno," Stiles said with a shrug. "Fine cuts of meat or pricey cheeses. Five gallons of ice cream, the good kind. Maybe the biggest bags of jerky. Oh, and pistachios. I might even get a cake. The point is that I can buy whatever I want, and that's a new feeling for me."

"I glad you're reveling in your financial freedom," Peter said, still smiling. "I wanted you to have the money to do what you want, not just what you need."

Stiles sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and smiled around it. "Thanks," he said, wanting to squirm with joy but managing to keep still. "I really do appreciate it."

"Of course, darling," Peter replied, and Stiles was still getting used to the pet names. "Did you do anything else with the money?"

"I bought some shirts," Stiles said with a nod. "Graphic tees. One's Doctor Who, another is Captain America and the last one is just covered in zombies. Then I bought some expensive shoes. I've always wanted to buy the Converse with the designs, but I could only ever afford the plain ones."

"You'll have to model them for me when they arrive," Peter said, looking fond.

Stiles blushed. "Yeah."

"Anything else?"

Stiles was about to say no, but then he remembered. "I sent some money to my dad," he said, pulling his lips to the side. "He asked me if I'd gotten a job, and I didn't want to tell him about you--yet, I mean--so I told him I was in the work study program. He told me to keep the money from now on. He wants me to have fun while I'm here."

"I agree with him. And don't worry, I can understand why type would be apprehensive about telling your father you have a sugar daddy that watches you masturbate," Peter said with an arched brow, amused. Then he yawned, before he lifted his head a bit. "The file is finished downloading."

Stiles bit his lip and didn't say anything, but he could hear his own voice through Peter’s speakers. Realization seemed to dawn on Peter’s face, and he let out a little 'ah.'

"Let's just close that," he said, and it was far too soon for the video to have completed. "I appreciate the thought, Stiles."

"But you don't like it," Stiles said with a slump to his shoulders. Had the new worn off already?

"No, sweet thing, it's not that," Peter hurried to tell him. "It's just it's not nearly as exciting after the fact. I'd would rather give you instruction while you're doing it. I want to see you come apart and know that my voice assisted in it."

Stiles blinked, straightening up. Oh. Well that stung a lot less than Peter just not liking the video at all. "Should I do it now?" he asked with a tilt of his head.

Peter smiled. "As much as that appeals to me, I am afraid I would fall asleep on you. I am completely exhausted." 

"Oh," Stiles said, looking down and picking at his sheet. "Tomorrow?" 

"If the mood strikes us." Peter shifted, sitting up more. "But first, I have a request."

"Kay?" Stiles inquired.

"We should trade numbers,” Peter said as he reached out of frame and came back with his phone in his hand. “I very selfishly want more than just Skype conversations. I want to know how you’re doing through the day.” 

Stiles blinked.

“Is that too much, too fast?" Peter asked.

Stiles thought about it a moment. Actually the thought the Peter was but a text away made him feel a bit giddy. "No, that’s not too much. Let me grab my phone." He leaned over and grabbed it off his nightstand. "Okay, my number is..." He rattled off his number and watched Peter input it into his phone.

After another twenty seconds, Stiles’s phone buzzed in his hand, and he looked down to see he had a text.

From Unknown: 1:22am  
I adore your cute nose.

Stiles couldn't help his sudden giggle, and he smiled at Peter. "You're the first," he said, before he went to his contacts screen and started tapping out Peter's info. "I got told many times in high school that my nose makes me look piggy."

"How rude," was Peter’s opinion. "I could wax on and on about how attractive you are."

Stiles bit his lip to keep from smiling so hard. This was such blatant flirting that he had no idea how to react. He had never had a relationship, never had sex and had been kissed all of twice. He was almost thankful for the country between him and Peter, because he would have been all over the man in person. He didn’t know how to play it cool.

"And now I must bid you goodnight," Peter said on a sigh. "I will text you tomorrow."

"If I don't respond right away, it's because I'm in class and I'm actually paying attention," Stiles told him, unable to get the happiness off his face.

"Of course. And if I don't answer, I'm busy with work. I don't have anything tomorrow, but I never know when I'm going to get called in." Peter let out a sigh, sounding tired. "Sleep well, darling boy," he said, softly smiling.

"Goodnight, D-Daddy," Stiles tried, before he frowned at himself.

Peter just kept on smiling. "We'll work on it. Bye." 

The call ended, and Stiles sank into his pillows, shaking his head at himself.

* * *

When Stiles woke up the next morning, he had a text waiting for him.

From Peter: 10:27am  
_Good morning, Stiles. I hope it finds you well._

Stiles giggled, curling up in his covers and hiding his grin behind his hand. He felt like he was made of fluttering butterflies.

To Peter: 11:15am  
Morning. I just woke up. What are you up to?

Pushing off his covers, Stiles got up and headed for the bathroom. As he was brushing his teeth, his phone jingled happily.

From Peter: 11:17am  
_I am eating what is probably lunch to most but breakfast to me. I'm sitting on my balcony and watching the city._

Stiles hurriedly finished with his teeth and spat, before he picked up his phone again. 

To Peter: 11:19am  
That sounds so nice. How far up are you?

From Peter: 11:20am  
_I'm in the top suite, twenty floors up._

Before Stiles could respond, he got another message, this one a picture. It was partly of Peter's smiling face, purple tinted sunglasses over his eyes. Behind him were some deck chairs, a jacuzzi and a covered pool. (Repeat, a _pool._ ) Off into the distance, Stiles could see tall silver buildings.

To Peter: 11:25am  
Woooooow. That's so awesome. I live three floors up, and I have to carry my bike up and down all day.

From Peter: 11:26am  
_I bet you have fantastic legs._

To Peter: 11:26am  
I totally do.

From Peter: 11:27am  
_What time do you have class?_

To Peter: 11:28am  
In about an hour, I’m trying to decide if I want to make breakfast or if I want to consume an entire box of pop tarts.

From Peter: 11:30am  
_I would prefer you eat something healthy. Do you have eggs? Scramble those with a bit of cheese. It’s quick._

Stiles paused as he was getting dressed and stared at his phone. Was it okay with him that Peter was telling him how to eat? He couldn’t decide. He wasn’t opposed, but it didn’t get him tingly. Scrambled eggs sounded really freaking good though. 

Dressed now, Stiles walked out of the room and into the living room. There was no one there. Almost everyone was already in class, except Jordan, who worked morning shifts at the local police station. The door to Scott, Isaac and Allison’s was open, so Stiles peeked in to see if Scott was a sickly huddle on the bed. If he was, Stiles was going to make twice as many eggs. But he did not find his best friend.

“Huh, maybe he felt good enough to go to class,” he mused, before he headed into the kitchen. He opened the fridge as his phone trilled.

From Peter: 11:33am  
_Was that out of line? You can tell me._

Stiles nearly dropped his eggs.

To Peter: 11:31am  
No no, it’s fine! I kind of like it, I think? It’s definitely new, but it’s not unwelcome.

From Peter: 11:31am  
_Ah, alright. I was worried for a moment._

To Peter: 11:32am  
I’m gonna make those scrambled eggs.

From Peter: 11:32am  
_Good. :)_

Stiles snickered softly to himself, unable to get over the fact that Peter was over forty and used smilies. It didn’t take him long before he had the eggs whisked and cooking in a pan, scrambling them with a wooden spoon. He sprinkled a bit of cheese into the pan, wondering when they even got shredded cheese. (Lydia probably bought it.) Then it was into the pan and finally his mouth.

“H-hot,” Stiles squeaked as he chewed, before he shoveled more into his mouth, his hunger coming to the surface. It was so much better than cold Pop Tarts. Maybe he wouldn’t get tired in class.

He washed his plate and put it in the dish drainer, before he grabbed his phone and checked the time. It had only been fifteen minutes, so he didn’t have to leave for another twenty. He flopped down on the couch and brought up his text messages. 

To Peter: 11:48am  
I ate and it was great. 

From Peter: 11:49am  
_Good to hear. So, I have a question. I watched your video and noticed you used lube this time. What brand do you have?_

What? Stiles blinked at his phone. That was such a weird question.

To Peter: 11:50am  
KY?

From Peter: 11:51am  
_That’s what I thought. I’m going to send you a bit of money so you can buy a different lube brand. It’s called Sliquid, and it’s miles above KY._

To Peter: 11:52am  
Why?

From Peter: 11:53am  
_KY has several harmful ingredients in it. I don’t want you getting an infection when I have you finger yourself._

Stiles blinked at the phone, before he opened up his phone’s Chrome browser and went to look up the ingredients in KY. Such a mainstream lubricant couldn’t really be that bad for him, could it? After a bit of eye opening research, it turned out that, yes, it could. Parabens, glycerin, petrochemicals and so on. Now he was worried that he’d been doing damage to his body.

Then his brain clicked. Wait. Stiles read the text message again. Peter wanted him to finger himself. On camera. Stiles blushed hot and swallowed, before he pulled his bottom lip through his teeth.

To Peter: 11:56am  
Okay, I looked it up, and it’s bad.

From Peter: 11:57am  
_Throw that KY away for me._

To Peter: 11:57am  
Okay.

Stiles pushed himself up and went into his room, grabbing the KY out of his nightstand and dropped it into the bin next to his desk. He felt the urge to kick the bin in disappointment, but he managed to withhold. 

To Peter: 11:59am  
Done.

From Peter: 12:00pm  
_Good boy._

From Peter: 12:01pm  
_After your classes, I’ll send you to the appropriate website to buy good lube._

To Peter: 12:02pm  
Cool.

From Peter: 12:03pm  
_I may convince you to buy a few toys too. You can never have too many dildos and/or vibrators._

Stiles almost choked on his own spit. This conversation was taking a turn to a place that would have him incoherently embarrassed in person.

To Peter: 12:04pm  
I don’t have one of those, either of them.

From Peter: 12:05pm  
_What._

From Peter: 12:06pm  
_That wasn’t a question, more of a statement of the absurdity of your admission._

To Peter: 12:07pm  
Sorry.

From Peter: 12:08pm  
_Oh no, pet, do not apologize. I’m just taken aback._

From Peter: 12:09pm  
_I must ask. Do you not enjoy penetration?_

More blushing. Probably all of Stiles’s blood was in his face. He needed to sit down. He parked himself on his bed and pulled in a deep breath.

To Peter: 12:11pm  
I do. I mean, I can go up to a couple fingers. It’s really intense.

From Peter: 12:12pm  
_But you’ve never been inclined to try out a toy?_

To Peter: 12:12pm  
I have.

From Peter: 12:13pm  
_But?_

To Peter: 12:14pm  
Sex shops are scary. :(

From Peter: 12:15pm  
_You’ll have to forgive me, darling boy, but I laughed._

From Peter: 12:16pm  
_We’ll look at some toys together. Surely we’ll be able to find something for you._

To Peter: 12:17pm  
That sounds okay.

To Peter: 12:17pm  
Fun, actually.

To Peter: 12:18pm  
Oh shit, look at the time. I gotta book it to school!

Stiles quickly gathered his things, shoving his laptop, notebooks and textbooks in his messenger bag. His phone beeped as he was headed out of the door, and he glanced at it while hefting his bike onto his shoulder.

From Peter: 12:20pm  
_I shall wait on bated breath. Have a good day, dearest._

Stiles smiled to himself, before he shoved his phone in his pocket and started down the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had planned to end this chapter with a little _somethin' somethin'_ but it ran long, so that'll be next chapter. So much stuff is gonna, you guys. I'm so excited!
> 
> Up next: dildos and vibrators.
> 
> Update by **4/12/15.** (That's the day before my birthday! :D)
> 
>  After the next chapter, the updates will be every two weeks.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's an early update for you. xD It's a long one too.

It was difficult to pay attention in class when all Stiles was thinking about was Peter and sex toys. Really, who could focus on the camouflage technique of the mimic octopus when they had that on the brain? The cuteness of a strobing cuttlefish wasn’t even enough to catch his attention fully, and he loved cuttlefish. 

With his hands hidden by his desk, Stiles pulled out his phone.

To Peter: 12:49pm  
What have you done to me?

Stiles's phone buzzed softly almost immediately. He'd put it on vibrate as he left his home.

From Peter: 12:50pm  
_What would you be referring to, dear one?_

To Peter: 12:50pm  
I can't stop thinking about dildos!!!

From Peter: 12:51pm  
_That must make school work an interesting affair. ;)_

To Peter: 12:51pm  
Ugh.

From Peter: 12:52pm  
_You need to have a little patience._

To Peter: 12:53pm  
Or I could skip my next class.

From Peter: 12:54pm  
_Now that I cannot allow. Your education is very important._

Stiles managed not to pout, but only barely.

To Peter: 12:55pm  
I wouldn’t miss much. I take good notes.

From Peter: 12:56pm  
_I'm sure you do. But I refuse to be an accessory to truancy._

To Peter: 12:57pm  
Okay. :(

From Peter: 12:58pm  
_It delights me that you're so eager, but think about how sweet it will be to relax at home after you've finished your classes. Then it will be just you and me._

Stiles swallowed. That sounded so nice. All he wanted to do was hear the Peter's voice. He let out a soft sigh and resigned himself to one more class, then freedom.

To Peter: 1:00pm  
Okay, I won't skip.

From Peter: 1:01pm  
_That's my boy._

Stiles felt a tingle up his body at the praise, and he couldn't help his shiver. He put his phone back in his pocket and went back to paying attention to the lesson. They were still talking about cuttlefish.

His second glass didn't exactly fly by. Fundamentals of Analytical Chemistry was as exactly as fun as it sounded. If Stiles were not so keyed up, he would have been yawning along with the rest of his class. When the class was finished, he bolted for the door. 

The ride home was fast because he was pedaling his little ass off, and by the time he got into the apartment after jogging up the stairs, he was shaking and panting. He felt like he was going to pass out. He dragged his bag across the floor as he hobbled into the living room, sounding like he had black lung.

“Are you dying?” Lydia asked airily from where she was lying on the couch with her head in Jordan’s lap. He was playing with her long hair, which was a favorite activity of hers. Lydia turned her head away from her phone to look at Stiles.

Stiles sucked in a few breaths. “I ran up the steps.”

“Why?” Lydia asked with her nose wrinkling in distaste.

“Because I’m out of my mind,” Stiles replied, before he started trudging toward his room. “Gonna go fall down now.” 

“The others are getting Thai for dinner. Want me to come get you when they’re here?”

“That’d be cool.” He pushed his door open and hobbled through into his room. He shut the door and finally made it to his bed, which he flung himself onto. He kicked his sore legs a little, before he managed to drag himself up and recline against the pillows. He pulled out his laptop before letting his bag plop onto the floor. He tapped the keys lightly as the computer booted up, before he opened up Skype right away. Peter was online, and Stiles grinned as he typed out a message to him.

Skype: I’m home.

Almost immediately the call screen came up, and Stiles scrambled for his headphones before he hit answer. A smile bloomed across his face when Peter blew up across his screen. “Hey,” he said, almost like a sigh of relief.

“Hello, precious. How was class?” Peter asked, lips quirked up at the edge.

“Long,” Stiles said, before he rocked back and forth on his butt a bit. “Sooo, we gonna…?”

Peter rolled his blue eyes up, and it looked fond. “So eager, okay, one second.” He looked down, and the sound of clicking keys came over the line. “Here.”

A link popped up in the Skype chat window, and Stiles made Peter’s video window smaller so he could click on it. It brought up a site called EdenFantasys, and Stiles was momentarily confused by the grammar. The site was seriously pink and purple. There was a button that said he could win $300 worth of sex toys. That was so much. There was a giant FREE SHIPPING Orders $39. How much did sex toys cost?

“You look a little thrown,” Peter said, and Stiles blinked, before he laughed.

“Yeah, a bit. There’s so much. I don’t know what to look at,” Stiles admitted.

Peter chuckled into his ear. “Well, first click the search bar and enter Sliquid.”

“Like liquid with an S?” Stiles asked as he typed it, and Peter gave him a soft ‘mhm’. After he hit Enter several options came up. “Uuuuh. Okay, which one?” There were so many: Silk, Sea, Organics, Silver, Sassy, Swirl, Sizzle, Satin and H2O.

“They’re all good. Just choose one you like.”

Stiles let out a kind of whine. “Please don’t make me choose. I’m so bad when given so many options. We will seriously be here all night as I research every single one of these and make graphs and flowcharts in comparison.” 

That made Peter let out a hearty laugh, and it sent a tingle up Stiles’s spine. “Alright,” Peter said, an edge of a purr in his voice. “Get H2O. It’s the one I use. The 8.5oz option. You’ll need it.”

That was a promise that made Stiles shudder as he added the lubricant to the cart. “Okay, what next?” 

“Next we go exploring. This may take a while. Do you have the time?” Peter asked.

“Yup, nothing planned for the rest of the day. And tomorrow’s Saturday, so I could stay up all night if I wanted to.” When it came to Peter, he did want to. 

“Wonderful. Alright then, go to _Dildos_ and then _Refine By._ There are plenty of categories there. Check all of them that interest you.”

Again with giving Stiles decisions. Stiles was pretty sure a G-spot dildo wouldn’t work for him. He checked classic dildos and dongs, realistic dildos, glass dildos and dildos from natural materials, prostate massagers and anal dildos. So, basically all of the list. He felt like open mindedness would benefit him here.

“See anything you like?” Peter asked after a bit of silence.

“Um,” Stiles said, looking at the options. “What about this one?” he asked, clicking on one called Casper. It was a transparent toy with a head and veins like a real dick. He copied the link and sent it through to Peter.

“Hm,” Peter started. “Well, glass dildos are certainly an experience, but I’m not sure it should be your _first_ experience. I want it to be good for you. Try to find something silicone instead.”

“Oh, okay,” Stiles said, hitting the back button. He wasn’t attached to the [Casper](http://www.edenfantasys.com/dildos/realistic-dildos/casper). It was just the first one that he saw that was a possibility. As he went through more of the toys, he noticed a trend. Lots of these dildos were realistic with balls and everything. Stiles was not interested in that _at all._ He kept scrolling, and he let out a surprise laugh at one of the choices.

“What has you so tickled?” Peter said in his ear.

“This,” Stiles said, copying the link and putting it into the Skype chat. It was a glass toy with ridiculous rainbow bumps down the length and a heart shaped handle.

“Oh dear,” was Peter’s opinion. “It reminds me of [Rainbow Brite](http://www.edenfantasys.com/dildos/classic-dildos-and-dongs/rainbow-heart). I’m slightly disturbed.”

Stiles couldn’t help his giggle, before he forced himself to sober up and keep looking through the options. There was another glass toy with a heart handle, this one completely pink, called [Love Journey](http://www.edenfantasys.com/dildos/glass-steel-ceramic-sex-toys/love-journey). Stiles managed not to cackle as he continued to scroll.

Then he found a simple looking dildo called the [Rookie,](http://www.edenfantasys.com/dildos/realistic-dildos/rookie) and that sounded like something he needed. “What about this?” Stiles asked, sending Peter the link. “That’s a good beginner’s toy, right?”

“It is,” Peter agreed. “Keep that one in mind as you look at the rest of the options.”

Stiles opened another tab just for that toy then went back to scrolling. Then he had to gigglesnort at one of the options. “Okay, that one is called [Rumblestick](http://www.edenfantasys.com/dildos/classic-dildos-and-dongs/rumblestick). I don’t know why that’s so funny, but it is.” He rubbed his lips as he continued down, before he laughed again. “And that one is [Ripplestick.](http://www.edenfantasys.com/dildos/classic-dildos-and-dongs/ripplestick)”

Peter chuckled at him. “You are the epitome of maturity right now.”

“It’s good that you’re learning now that I’m a giant dork. You can be disappointed now instead of later,” Stiles told him, mostly joking. Mostly. There was a possibility that Peter just wouldn’t like that he had the sense of humor of a twelve-year-old. 

But Peter just shook his head, smile in place. “On the contrary, I find you all the more adorable. I need a little more silliness in my life.”

Stiles’s face flushed with heat, and Stiles grinned and somehow managed not to hide his face in giddy embarrassment. He kept looking through the page and found another possibility. It was called [Leisure](http://www.edenfantasys.com/dildos/strap-on-dildos/leisure), and it was smooth from tip to base, where it become wider.

“Here’s one,” he said, giving Peter the link. 

“That’s another good option. Keep going.”

Stiles did, and he found one called [Camelback](http://www.edenfantasys.com/dildos/classic-dildos-and-dongs/camelback). It was white with orange in a drip pattern down its length, and Stiles kind of liked it. He copied the link and sent it to Peter. “This one’s kind of nuts, but I think it’s cool.”

After a pregnant pause, Peter let out an “Ah.” Then he cleared his throat. “Well, there are a few problematic qualities, most notably that it doesn’t have a flared base.”

“Why would that matter?” Stiles asked, forehead crinkling in confusion. 

“Without a large base, there’s nothing keeping it from disappearing into your ass and going spelunking through your intestines,” Peter said, and Stiles was horrified into silence. “That’s a hospital trip and embarrassing story you’ll never want to tell anyone.”

Stiles let out a high pitched noise of terror, before he hit the back button so hard he nearly broke it. 

“Also, I doubt you want a nine inch toy as your starter. We’ll have to work you up to that, now won’t we?” 

That made Stiles hot in a different fashion. Imagining him working himself up to different toys under Peter’s eye and instruction had his dick giving an interested twitch. Maybe he could touch himself for Peter after this. 

“Some of these are so huge!” was Stiles’s complaint.

“Moderately. If you want to see huge, you should go to Bad Dragon. Don’t though. You may become scarred for life.”

That was like giving Stiles a bright red button that said Don’t Push. He opened up another window and put in _bad dragon_ , which led him to the website. It didn’t take long before he let out a sound of terror. Something like _aaaaagh!_

“What? What have you found?”

“[Horse dicks](http://bad-dragon.com/products/chanceunflared)!” Stiles was staring at his screen through his fingers.

Peter sighed heavily into his ears. “What did I say?”

“Sorry,” Stiles squeaked, closing the window and going back to looking at rationally shaped dildos. But that image would haunt him for a while.

He came across another small toy called the [Acute](http://www.edenfantasys.com/dildos/strap-on-dildos/acute). It was simply, a bit of a bulge in the head, a short shaft and a flared base. “This one’s nice,” he said, getting the link and giving it to Peter. He actually really liked the design of it and the color, which was a kind of marbled swirl of black and deep purple.

“It is,” Peter agreed. 

Stiles kept looking at toys until he ran out of options. “I guess that’s it,” he said, leaning back and looking to Peter’s video window. “Three, right? I just have to choose one?”

“You can have more than one. You could have all three if you want. I definitely suggest getting the Leisure, since it comes with a bullet and I’m eager to see how you react to vibration.”

Stiles bit his lip, adding the Leisure to his cart. Then he had a good look at the Acute and Rookie. Honestly he liked the Acute so much more, so he added that one to his cart too and just closed the window to the Rookie. 

“Okay, I guess I’m done,” Stiles said, feeling satisfied with his choices.

“Excellent. Go to the checkout screen and tell me how much the total is.”

Stiles did so, and he winced. “It’s like a hundred bucks,” he said, already starting to feel some shame. 

“That’s fine. Is that before or after shipping?” 

“Before,” Stiles said slowly. “But there’s an option for free shipping.”

“How long will that take?”

“Like a week,” Stiles said with a shrug.

“Hm, not good enough. Choose overnight shipping. Call me impatient, but I want to see you use these toys ASAP.” 

“But overnight shipping is like thirty dollars,” Stiles said, his brow furrowed.

“And?” Peter asked with a lifted brow.

“That’s a lot,” Stiles tried to insist.

“Not really. I was prepared to pay more.”

Stiles let out a withering noise. “How about we just do two day shipping? It’s seventeen dollars, and I’ll feel guilty but less guilty than if we paid more.” 

Peter was silent for a moment or two. “Alright. That’s fine. How much is the total?”

Stiles told him, and they went through the process of transferring money to his PayPal, which he used to pay with. Afterward, he leaned back against the pillows, enlarging Peter’s video window across his screen. “I’m excited.”

“Good,” Peter said, before he let out a long breath. “So, I have a… request for you.”

“Yeah?” Stiles asked, sitting up all eagerly.

“Until your package arrives, I would like you to refrain from touching yourself.”

Well that was like a splash of cold water all over his libido. “You serious right now?” Stiles asked in a breathy, almost alarmed voice. 

Peter just smirked at him, and oh god, he had an evil mastermind for a Daddy. “Yes, baby boy, I’m serious. I bet you’re wishing you picked overnight shipping, aren’t you?”

Stiles indeed wanted to kick himself in the head. He whined and dropped his face into his hand. “This is cruel and unusual punishment.”

“You don’t have to obey,” Peter said, and Stiles looked at him. “It would just please me if you did.” Peter tilted his head just so. “Don’t you want to be good for Daddy?”

Okay, it wasn’t fair that that sent a thrill of arousal through him when he wasn’t allowed to follow through. He nodded his head. “Yes,” he said, a bit high pitched.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir! Yes, Daddy,” Stiles blurted, not sure which one was the right one, but it didn’t seem to matter because Peter was smiling.

“That’s my boy.” 

Stiles wanted to say that he was going to be good, but he was going to be a spiteful little snot the whole time. But there was a knock on his door and Lydia’s voice calling his name. He moved the mic away from his mouth to call out, “Yeah?”

“The food’s here,” came her voice through the door.

“Okay!” Stiles replied, before he moved his mic back into position and looked at Peter. “I’ve got to go and get some food before my garbage disposal of a best friend eats it all.”

“I’ll be around if you want to chat after,” Peter said, mildly. 

“Kay,” Stiles replied with a grin. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye.”

Stiles went to end the call, before he had a thought. He blew Peter a kiss and savored his look of surprise before cutting the connection. He laughed to himself as he removed his headset, before a new message came through.

 **Peter:** Brat.

Stiles grinned, before he bounced away to get food.

* * *

Stiles had never been a patient person. He was the type of guy to hunt down his birthday presents, which had always been hidden in the same place, carefully unwrap them to see what they were then rewrap them when he was satisfied. He had mastered the look of _oh, what a surprise!_

He had never thought two day shipping would be such a long time. It was two business days, and since it was over the weekend, that meant the stuff wouldn’t arrive until Monday. Ugh, he could have had it on Saturday if he’d chosen overnight shipping like Peter had suggested. He was just going to mind the man from now on when it came to these kinds of things.

Not touching himself was difficult. He was used to jerking off in the shower every morning. It was part of his routine, and he had to stop himself when he automatically went to do it after rinsing the suds from his hair. Thankfully he didn’t have to go to classes on Saturday and Sunday, so he wouldn’t have been fidgeting in his seat, thinking about rubbing one out. But then maybe he could have done with the distraction.

Talking to Peter was the worst because that man’s voice was a turn on, almost like a physical thing that stroked his skin and gave him goosebumps. He almost asked about fifty times if he could masturbate just once, but he wanted to be good for his Daddy, so he refrained. Saturday dragged on by.

“I’m going to be at a shoot all day tomorrow,” Peter said on Saturday night, just before they were going to sleep. “I won’t be home until after ten my time.”

“So like seven my time?” Stiles asked, and Peter nodded. “That’s cool. I’ll find some way to entertain myself.”

Peter lifted a brow, giving him an intense look.

“Not like that,” Stiles said with a huff. “I’m not going to succumb to debauchery while unsupervised.” 

“I believe you,” Peter told him, the corner of his lips quirking up.

On Sunday, Stiles ran out of things to do in the afternoon. He’d thought he could talk Scott into a video game marathon, but he, Allison and Isaac were doing date day. Lydia was studying. Jordan was working. Stiles was left to his own devices. 

So he logged onto FetLife, figuring he could mess around until he got bored. But when the page loaded, he noticed that Erica was online and smiled. He pulled up the Kink Chat.

 **The_Stiles:** hey you!

 **catwoman94:** Oh hey stranger! I thought your Daddy was taking up all your time.

 **The_Stiles:** haha he’s working today

 **catwoman94:** Oh okay, I see how it is. :P

 **The_Stiles:** I go to college too

 **catwoman94:** Me too, well, online courses. I have too much anxiety for college in person.

 **The_Stiles:** shit sorry

 **catwoman94:** Don’t worry about it. We all have things we deal with.

 **The_Stiles:** I have ADHD

 **catwoman94:** Aw, I’m sorry. :( You take Adderall for it and everything?

 **The_Stiles:** yeah it helps

 **catwoman94:** I have epilepsy, and I take meds for that. It’s one of the reasons I have social anxiety.

 **The_Stiles:** oh sorry

 **catwoman94:** Not your fault.

Stiles didn’t know what to say after that. He sat there with his fingers on the keys, chewing the inside of his cheek. Honestly, what could he say?

 **catwoman94:** Wow, that got heavy real quick, huh?

Stiles blew out a breath and laughed.

 **The_Stiles:** yeah

 **catwoman94:** Subject change tiiiiime. ♫♫

 **The_Stiles:** lol

 **The_Stiles:** I did actually want to ask you something

 **catwoman94:** Shoot.

 **The_Stiles:** have you ever gone to one of these munches?

 **catwoman94:** Oh. Yes, I have. They’re pretty nice. It’s pretty much like a backyard BBQ, but instead of annoying relatives it’s kinky people.

 **catwoman94:** I didn’t go for a long time because I was scared. But Boyd said he’d stay with me and that we could leave if I got anxious. 

**The_Stiles:** Boyd sounds like a nice guy

 **catwoman94:** He is!

 **catwoman94:** I really love him.

 **catwoman94:** Like REALLY love him.

 **catwoman94:** He’s my soulmate.

Smiling to himself, Stiles let out a sigh. He didn’t know how Erica felt. He thought he had for Lydia, but that was just an obsession, not love. It had taken him a long time to know the difference.

 **catwoman94:** How is your Daddy? Did you talk to him?

 **The_Stiles:** yeah

 **catwoman94:** Aaaand?

 **The_Stiles:** I’m officially his baby boy now

 **catwoman94:** The sound that just left my mouth scared my cat.

 **The_Stiles:** haha

 **catwoman94:** That’s good though. I’m glad you worked everything out.

 **The_Stiles:** yeah things are good

 **The_Stiles:** I really like the attention he gives me you know?

 **catwoman94:** I know better than some.

 **The_Stiles:** yeah

 **The_Stiles:** I’m really glad I can talk to you

 **The_Stiles:** I haven’t told my friends about anything

 **The_Stiles:** I’m afraid they’ll judge me

 **catwoman94:** Well, that’s a complicated situation. I mean, when I first told my friends, they were confused and a bit judgmental, but I just had to explain it to them. Once they understood, they were perfectly cool about it.

 **catwoman94:** Now they ask about Boyd and how I am and everything. 

**catwoman94:** Give your friends the opportunity to accept you.

 **catwoman94:** You might be surprised.

Stiles took a deep breath, feeling warm and happy all over. Yeah, that made sense. His friends were great people, and they weren’t prejudice of people’s lifestyles. After all, Scott, Allison and Isaac weren’t the norm, and everyone was okay with that. He would tell them, and they would be cool with it.

A grin spread across Stiles’s face.

 **The_Stiles:** thanks

 **catwoman94:** What for?

 **The_Stiles:** for being incredibly awesome

 **catwoman94:** Aww. :) You’re welcome, hon. 

**catwoman94:** Oh, so, since you mentioned munches, there is one scheduled for two weeks from now. You should totally come.

 **The_Stiles:** is it near the Berkeley U campus? I can only bike so far.

 **catwoman94:** Can your Daddy bring you? I’d love to meet him too.

 **The_Stiles:** Peter lives in New York.

 **catwoman94:** Oh!

 **catwoman94:** Somehow I missed that.

 **catwoman94:** Boyd and I can pick you up. You’re on the way. 

**The_Stiles:** that would be super cool

 **catwoman94:** Yay. Okay, what’s your address? For that matter, what’s your phone number? 

Stiles gave her his information, and when his phone buzzed he figured it was her sending him a test message, and he was surprised to be wrong. 

From Peter: 2:14pm  
_Save me._

Chuckling, Stiles was imagined Peter surrounded by catty models and angry designers.

To Peter: 2:15pm  
What’s wrong? Come to my bosom.

From Peter: 2:16pm  
_Fuck, I laughed and now my subject thinks I’m making fun of him._

From Peter: 2:17pm  
_I would love to bury my face in your bosom. Or between your legs._

Stiles blushed so suddenly that the flood of blood to his head made him a bit dizzy. Peter was so good at being blunt that it gave him whiplash. He looked to his computer.

 **catwoman94:** I can’t wait to meet you in person.

 **catwoman94:** I can tell we’re going to be besties.

 **The_Stiles:** same here

He looked back down at his phone.

To Peter: 2:19pm  
You can’t just say stuff like that!

From Peter: 2:20pm  
_Why? I can tell you like it._

From Peter: 2:21pm  
_I could do wonderful things between your thighs._

To Peter: 2:23pm  
You don’t get to say stuff like that when I can’t touch myself. >8|

From Peter: 2:24pm  
_I have no idea what that is._

To Peter: 2:25pm  
It’s an angry face.

From Peter: 2:25pm  
_Alright, I won’t tease you anymore. I should probably get back to work anyway._

From Peter: 2:26pm  
_I am proud of you though. You obey commands so well._

Stiles giggled and hid his face for a second. He didn’t know why Peter’s praise made him so happy, but there it was.

To Peter: 2:27pm  
Thank you, Daddy.

From Peter: 2:27pm  
_I’ll text you later, sweetheart._

To Peter: 2:28pm  
Okay.

Stiles set his phone to the side, still smiling, before he looked back at his computer. 

**catwoman94:** Omg, I have to tell you about this one time and a pool party munch.

 **catwoman94:** The host’s sister got soooo wasted.

Laughing, Stiles pulled his laptop into his lap and leaned back for story time.

* * *

On Mondays, Stiles had class from ten in the morning to two in the afternoon. The entire time he was in class, he was a fidgeting monster. Then he got a text.

From Best Bro: 1:17pm  
_u got a package i put it on ur bed_

To Best Bro: 1:18pm  
Thanks

Peter had better be online when he got home, or he was going to get down to business by himself. After all, Peter had only said to wait until the stuff arrived and nothing about him watching. Though even as he thought that, he knew he wouldn't. It was going to be a new experience for him, and he wanted to share it with Peter.

He pedaled home fast and jogged up the steps with his bike on his shoulder. He was panting when he got inside, but he was too excited to stop and take a few breaths. Scott and Allison were in the livingroom when thundered through, and they gave him wide eyes. He squeaked as he tried to open his bedroom door at the same time as going through it and pretty much crashed into it. 

“I’m fine!” he called as he got into his room and shut the door. There, sitting on his bed and looking innocuous, was a medium sized UPS box. He walked up to it, setting his bag down, taking a deep breath. Then he scuttled back to the door and locked it to deter any nosy roommates.

After hopping onto his bed, Stiles pulled the box into his lap, ready to tear into it. But then he didn’t. Peter needed to see this. He opened his laptop and grabbed his headset as it booted up. Then he opened Skype and was happy to see that Peter was online. 

**Stiles:** hey! guess what arrived

Peter didn’t bother to respond, and Stiles laughed as the call tone played in his ear. He hit accept and grinned widely when Peter’s face appear on his screen. “Hello, darling,” Peter said, before his eyes dropped to the box in Stiles’s lap. “I had thought you were going to tear into that immediately.”

“I wanted to do this with you,” Stiles said, before he bit his lip and looked down.

“Go on then,” Peter said, voice a bit deeper.

Stiles ripped open the box hard enough to send packing peanuts all over the place. He laughed and dug his hands into the box, pulling out two box containers and one bottle. He let out a sound like _eee_ as he held his booty to his chest and moved the box out of the way.

“So, okay, we have lube,” he said, lifting the bottle and making it do a little dance. “Glycerin and paraben free.” He grinned as Peter smiled, amused. He set the lube down and picked down the first toy box. It was simple, mostly clear but for the name of it. “This is the Leisure,” he said, turning the front of the box toward Peter. Then he lifted it up to look at it. “That’s that little thing? Is that the bullet?” 

“Yes,” Peter said with a snort. “And it won’t seem so little when it’s inside the toy and inside you.”

Stiles couldn’t help but flush at that. Someday, he would hopefully get used to Peter’s blatant way of speaking. Just not today. 

He cleared his throat and opened the box, sliding the toy and the bullet out. “It’s longer than I thought it was,” he said, picking up the Leisure and giving it a squeeze. “Squishy,” he murmured. Then he picked up the bullet and pushed the button on the end, immediately surprised at how powerful and quiet the vibrations were. “Oh,” was his opinion.

Peter chuckled. “Just you wait until you have it pressed against someplace sensitive.”

Stiles bit his lip, tempted to just throw off his clothes right then. But instead, he set the bullet on the bed with the Leisure and picked up the other box. “Presenting, the Acute,” he said, showing Peter the box, before he pulled it open. The toy was shorter than the Leisure and just as squishy. He put it down and cleared his throat.

“What’s on your mind?” Peter asked.

“I’m--” Stiles huffed as he knocked the packing peanuts off his bed and set the box everything came in on the floor. “I really want to put these in my ass.” He really couldn’t say that with any more subtlety. 

Peter laughed, loud and bright, and it was a nice sound that curled in Stiles’s chest and warmed him. “Well, my sweet, by all means, do so.” Peter shifted, leaning back where he was on his couch. “Take off your shirt.”

Stiles pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, before he jerked off his overshirt, throwing it away without care, and he tugged his tee over his head. His chest was a bit flushed, kind of blotchy in places, and Stiles felt less than attractive until he saw the way Peter was looking at him. Like he was something delicious. 

“You have lovely nipples,” Peter said, corner of his mouth lifted. “Touch them. Get them hard.”

Licking his lips, Stiles lifted his hands and touching his nipples, giving a shudder as he plucked at them gently. He could feel the skin hardening, pebbling, and he rolled his thumbs against the nubs.

“You don’t do this often, do you?” Peter asked, tilting his head just so. “You like to jump right into the deep end and get off as fast as possible.”

“Y-yeah,” Stiles said, biting his lower lips and running his fingers over his nipples. They felt hot and tight, and the touches sent shocks right to his cock, which was twitching to life in his pants. ”I’m impatient.”

“I figured as much,” Peter said. “If I were there, I would suck and lick them until you were begging me to stop.”

Stiles let out a high noise, twisting his nipples and pulling at them. “That… That sounds…” He couldn’t even finish.

“I’d certainly take my time with you,” Peter promised him in a low, husky voice. Peter sounded the way a smoky whiskey tasted. Probably anyway. Stiles didn’t really know, but Peter was super refined, so the comparison stood.

“Yeah?” Stiles breathed out, pinching his nipples hard enough that it hurt just a little. It was so good.

“Oh yes, dear boy,” Peter purred to him, and Stiles whimpered. “I would love to kiss you senseless then leave hickies and bite marks across that beautiful pale skin of yours.” He flicked out his tongue and ran it across his lips, and the action was _obscene_. “Everyone would know that you belong to me.”

Stiles moaned softly, wanting to press his thighs together but unable to with his laptop between his knees. “Daddy, please,” he begged softly, and it was easy to say it now, in the moment. “I-I need…”

“What do you need, baby?” Peter asked him. “You want to touch your pretty cock, don’t you?” When Stiles nodded rapidly, Peter put on this grin that was animalistic. And so hot.

Stiles nodded, dragging his fingers down and pressing the heel if his hand against his cock through his jeans. "Can I?" he asked, his voice quiet.

"Yes. Take off your pants and underwear and show me how hard you are." 

Stiles had to shift around on his butt to accomplish that without getting off the bed. When he pushed his pants down his legs, he encountered an issue. "Dammit," he said with a laugh. "I forgot to take my shoes off."

Chuckling, Peter shook his head. "I have never known someone as silly as you."

"Is that good or bad?" Stiles asked with a grin, managing to get his shoes, socks and pants off with a flourish.

"Good," Peter said. "You make me smile."

Stiles flushed with joy, grinning at Peter and he got back into position, his hard dick against his stomach. "Yeah, same to you."

"Mm, good." Peter's eyes dropped down to look between Stiles’s thighs. "Touch yourself a bit. Don't get too carried away. I have plans for you."

Licking his lips, Stiles nodded and took himself in hand. He gave his cock a few pumps, grazing the head with his thumb. His mouth dropped open as pleasure bloomed up his spine.

"You are a sight," Peter told him, voice at a lower octave. "You make me itch for my camera. If I were there, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from immortalizing you on film."

Stiles whimpered, putting his head back. Just imagining Peter capturing his pleasure made Stiles twitch against his own hand. Peter would be able to look at the pictures whenever he wanted. Stiles gave the base of his cock a squeeze, trying to calm down.

"Such a good boy. Will you finger yourself for me?" Peter asked, and Stiles whined, nodding. "Alright, take your lube and get two of your fingers wet."

Stiles scrambled for the lube, almost knocking it off the bed. He popped the cap and couldn’t help but give it a sniff. It smelled like nothing. He oozed it out onto his fingers, surprised at how thick it was. He rubbed the lube between his fingers, before he canted his hips up and reached between his legs.

“Just one finger for now,” Peter said, watching him with those beautiful blue eyes of his. “I want you to take this slow. You don’t want to get overwhelmed.”

With a little noise, Stiles pressed his middle finger inside of himself, immediately letting out a moan. He didn’t finger himself much, because he was impatient as hell, but when he did it took his breath away. 

“That’s it,” Peter murmured. “Nice and slow. Time a moment to just feel.” 

Stiles crooked his finger and let out a shaky gasp at the brush against his prostate. This was about the point where he went to town jacking off and fingering when was alone. He forced himself to be patient. 

“Do me a favor. Lie back with your legs open as wide as you can. I want to see,” Peter instructed.

With his face burning, Stiles slid down onto his back, pushing the computer back with his feet then splaying his legs wide open. He used both hands to take over of his ass cheeks and pulled them open, revealing the wet hole between them.

There was a catch to Peter’s breath, before he _growled._ Fuck, that shouldn’t have been so hot, but it made Stiles’s hole clench on nothing. “That’s good. I can still see your face. Two fingers now, dear boy. That’s the most you’ve done, isn’t it?”

“Mmhm.” Stiles pressed his two fingers in and hissed just a little at the stretch. It barely hurt, and it was replaced with pleasure promptly. He moved his too fingers in and out, soft noises coming through his parted lips. 

“You look amazing,” Peter told him, and Stiles shivered as he hit his prostate. “Ngh, Daddy.”

“What is it, sweetheart?” Peter cooed.

“I want--can I use a toy now, please?” he whined, his toes curling in the air. “I need more.”

“Hm,” Peter mused, looking like he was considering it. “Well, you have been good for me. I suppose I’ll let you. Slick up the Acute. That’s the best one to start with.”

Stiles grabbed it with his slick fingers, and it almost flew out of his hand like a rocket. He grabbed the lube and squirted probably more than necessary onto it. You could never have too much lube, right? Then he pressed the head of the toy against his hole. 

“Slow,” Peter said in his ear, and Stiles opened his eyes, not realising he’d closed them. Peter was staring at him with a hunger, an intensity that made Stiles feel like prey. “I want you to savor it.” 

That just made Stiles whine, and he nodded as as he pushed the toy against his hole. There was some resistance, and Stiles gasped as the head of the Acute popped through the ring. “Fuck,” he said, shuddering as he pushed it in all the way, so the base was nestled against his hole.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Peter asked, and Stiles nodded, his mouth open and face hot. “Describe it for me. I want detail.”

“Um,” Stiles tried, before he bit his lip, clenching down on the toy and letting out a gurgle. “I--It--I don’t--” He sucked in a few breaths, licking his lips. “It’s so much better th-than my fingers,” he said, shifting his legs. “I feel full. I know it’s not that big, but--nng--It feels like the world is up my ass.”

“Mm, lovely. Do you think you can stroke your cock and move the toy at the same time?” Peter asked, and Stiles let out a shaky breath through his nose, before nodding. “I want you to come, Stiles. Come for me.”

With a keen, Stiles grabbed his cock in one hand and used the other to start moving the toy. It took a few tries to get a rhythm down, but as soon as he did, Stiles was heading full speed toward orgasm. He could tell he wasn’t going to last. Somehow he managed to keep his eyes open, watching Peter as Peter watched him. 

When he came, it seized his body suddenly, and he had to bite his lip hard to keep the noise in. He lost control of his body, his legs kicking out as his ass clenched around the toy and his dick spurted across his stomach. It was a kind of pleasure he’d never known. He might have blacked out for a second, and he was left panting on his side, limp as wet noodles.

“I was hoping you’d cry out on orgasm,” Peter said in his ear, and Stiles grunted. “But I guess you can’t with your roommates in the next room.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Stiles said, reaching between his legs and gingerly removing the toy from his ass. 

“Don’t apologize,” Peter said as Stiles pulled the computer closer so he could see the man. “You make a gorgeous face on climax.” 

Stiles folded his arm under his head and let out a sigh. “When do I get to see you do it? It feels a bit one sided when you’re unaffected,” he said, pushing out his bottom lip to be a brat.

Peter’s eyebrow twitched up, and he snorted. “You think I’m unaffected?” he asked, and Stiles nodded. “You couldn’t be more wrong.” He reached forward and tilted the camera down to show off his crotch. He pulled down the zip of his jeans and pulled out his cock.

Now, Peter’s cock? It was fucking beautiful. It was thick and long and uncut. It was the first cock that belonged to someone else that he’d seen, outside of the locker room. Stiles let out shivering breath, wanting to reach out and touch it.

“Can I…” Stiles tried, before he bit his lip.

Peter tilted the camera back up, brows lifted. “Can you what, darling?”

“Can I see you come?” Stiles blurted anxiously. “I want you to feel good too.”

Peter’s lips spread into a sharp grin. “Alright,” he said, before he tipped the camera back down.

“No, no, wait,” Stiles said, and Peter tipped the camera back up again, a brow lifted. “I want to see your face.”

“Never have I known someone as sweet as you,” Peter told him, before he leaned back and started stroking, his arm moving as his hand pumped off screen. “You’ve been the subject of all my fantasies lately,” he said, somehow managing to sound steady. “I keep imagining your tight, lean body under mine.”

“I want that,” Stiles told him very honestly, giddy as his brain floated in post-orgasmic chemicals. “I want you to do whatever you want to me.”

Peter gasped softly and put his head back, arm working faster. “Keep talking,” he ordered.

Licking his lips, Stiles watched. “I want to suck you,” he said, tips of his ears red. “I want to feel your dick in my mouth.”

“Your lips would look beautiful stretched around my cock,” Peter told him.

Stiles sucked in a breath. “I want you to fuck me. I want you to be the first.”

With a surprised noise, Peter spasmed, and streams of come shoot up onto his chest, soiling his shirt. He breathed hard, looking a bit thrown, before he pulled his shirt off and tossed it away. “You did that purposely, you brat,” he said, looking pleased.

Grinning triumphantly, Stiles squirmed a little. “You have a nice O face too.” He felt a bit proud of himself, and he could tell Peter knew it. 

Peter shook his head, smiling fondly. “I should put you over my knee and tan your hide for that,” he said.

Giggling, Stiles covered his face. 

“Clean yourself up, then tell me about your day,” Peter instructed. 

Stiles jumped to. He came back with boxers and sweat pants on, hopping onto the bed and pulling the computer into his lap. “I’m going to one of those munches in a couple weeks. Someone from FetLife invited me.”

“Well, that’s good to hear. They’re always interesting affairs. Everyone if very open about their lives, and you meet like-minded people.” Peter had his elbows on his knees and his chin resting on his laced fingers. “You might get hit on though.”

“I’ll just tell them my Daddy already staked a claim on me,” Stiles said lightly.

Peter chuckled. “Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like this one. I wrote most of it right after posting the previous chapter. xD
> 
> Next up: Stiles goes to a munch and tells his friends about his _activities_.
> 
> Update by: ~~4/19/15~~ I've been super busy, so I'll update when I can!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took 5ever, but it's longer than the others.
> 
> Hey look, it's Peter.

When the stuff Stiles ordered arrived, Stiles was like a kid at Christmas. He was at home with the others when there was a knock at the door, and he squealed as he ran for it. He bounced as he signed for the packages, before picking them up off the ground as the delivery person left. He kicked the door shut and waddled into the living room.

"What did you get?" Scott asked from his spot on the couch as Stiles plopped the stuff into the armchair.

"A whole bunch of stuff," Stiles said eagerly, starting to open up boxes. The first thing he found was his new Skullcandy headset, the thing that had cost the most. He showed it to the room.

"Neat," Scott said.

"Where did you get the money for that?" Isaac asked, brow furrowing.

Stiles froze, eyes going owlish. He didn’t have an explanation lined up. He couldn’t lie and say he had a job like he did with his father, because they knew what he did with his time, which was stay in his room on his computer. 

"Stiles?" Lydia gently prodded.

"Someone gave me the money," Stiles decided to say. As Erica had said, he had to give his friends a chance to accept him.

"Who?" Allison asked.

"Remember that website I found for kinky people?" Stiles asked, and everyone nodded with noises of ascent. "Well, I made a couple friends. One of them--Peter--is giving me a thousand bucks a week."

"What for?" Scott asked, looking increasingly confused and a bit alarmed. Everyone else had similar expressions.

"He... wants to take care of me," Stiles said, fidgeting with the headset box. He felt his face heat up, because he could tell his friends weren't going to let this one go.

"That sounds like a sugar daddy," Lydia said, furrowing her brows. "Is he old?"

Stiles frowned at that. "You're going to judge me about age differences? _You?_ "

"Jordan and I are six years apart, yes. That’s why I wouldn't judge you," Lydia replied, crossing her arms. "How big is the gap?"

Stiles averted his eyes. "Twenty-two years?"

Everyone’s eyes bugged out. 

"I lied," Lydia said. "I'm judging you."

"I knew you would," Stiles said. "But he's a great guy."

"What does he do?" Allison questioned. "Is he just independently wealthy?"

"He's a fashion photographer for Vogue," Stiles said, and he had to smile a little at Lydia’s surprised gasp. "He lives in New York, and he's really good at his job. And he says that he really likes me, calls me silly and wants to spoil me. It's nice, y'know?"

"He doesn't ask for anything sexual in return?" Isaac asked, eyes narrowed. "You're not sending him used underwear or anything, right?"

"First of all: ew," Stiles said, frowning deeply. Leave it to Isaac to make it gross. "Sometimes, we, uh, jerk off together, but I do that because I want to, not for the money." He felt deeply defensive of his actions and Peter, even though they'd been doing this for only two weeks. He tended to be as protective as a dragon with its hoard when it came to what was his.

"But he makes you happy?" Scott asked.

Stiles sagged a bit. Scott always knew the way to get to the heart of something when it came to Stiles. He nodded, smiling. "Yeah, he does. I've never felt this way before," he said, holding the headset against his chest. "I really like him."

Scott smiled back. "Then I'm happy for you."

It took a minute, but everyone else agreed too. Stiles’s smile spread into a grin. He loved his friends. "So, look at what I bought!"

* * *

It was the day of the munch, and Erica had been texting him since they woke. Stiles really liked her, and it was nice to have someone to talk to on a Saturday when his friends were out and Peter was working. Erica even gave him advice on what to wear.

He was looking at himself in the mirror. He was wearing his nicer jeans, the ones that stayed at the bottom of his drawer. On top he had a button down shirt, his only one. It was lavender and apparently brought out his eyes or something. Lydia got it for him ages ago.

His phone buzzed, and he looked at it.

From Erica: 11:20am  
_Here!!_

To Erica: 11:21pm  
Be down in a second. 

He shoved his phone into his pocket and grabbed his keys off the hook as he went past. After locking the door behind him, Stiles jogged down the three flights of stairs and was breathing a little heavy when he reached the bottom. In the parking lot, there was a red hatchback with a blonde standing next to it. She was wearing a blue sundress with rainbow spots on it.

She waved frantically at him. "Stiles?" she asked.

He grinned at her as he walked closer. "Hi, Erica," he said, realizing those rainbow spots were cat heads. When he got close enough, she pounced, hugging him tight. He laughed and patted her back.

"You're just as cute as I thought you would be," Erica said with a grin, pulling away and gesturing to a tall black man leaning against the driver's side of the car. "This is Boyd, my shnookums." She grinned as Boyd rolled his eyes, before he gave a bit of a wave in greeting.

Stiles waved back. "Hi."

They piled into the car, and Stiles smiled the whole way there, because Erica had a Taylor Swift CD and sang loudly to it. They pulled into a nice suburb and up to a house that already had several cars in front of it. Stiles walked across the yard with Boyd and Erica but had to make a correction in his trajectory when they headed around the house instead of toward the front door.

The backyard had a dozen people around a pool. There was someone grilling burgers and hot dogs, a woman walking around with drinks on a tray, and people milling about. When the woman with drinks noticed them, she grinned and headed over. Stiles spotted a blue collar around her neck.

“Hey!” she said, bright and happy. “It’s great to see you, Erica, Boyd.” She leaned in and air kissed Erica’s cheek. Then she looked to Stiles. “I haven’t seen you before. I’m Alexis. What’s your name?”

“I’m Stiles,” he replied, before he realized something. “Oh, you’re Cookie--uh--Cookie Monster?” 

“Cookie-Monstress,” Alexis corrected, still smiling, before she let out an ‘oh!’ “You’re The_Stiles, right?”

“That’s me,” Stiles said, nodding. 

Alexis handed him a drink, something fruity and bubbling. “Well, since this is your first munch, I’ll give you a quick explanation. This is just a place for fellow kinky people to hang out. There isn’t going to be any BDSM play. The most that will happen is someone just telling a story, or maybe someone wearing a collar.” She ran her fingers over the blue leather around her neck.

“Oh,” Stiles said, taking a sip of the drink. “Mm, this is good.”

“I mixed it myself,” Alexis said, grinning. “This is all about mingling.” She turned and pointed to the other people there. “That’s my husband and my Master at the grill there. His name is Joe. Other there is Kali and her submissive, Julia. They’re really nice. You’ll like them.” She went on introducing everyone, such as Meredith the Mistress and her pet, Angel, the two switches, Danny and Ethan, and so on.

“Enjoy, okay?” Alexis said, before she walked off.

“I’m going to ask Kali something,” Boyd said, looking to Erica. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Erica said, putting her arms around one of Stiles’s. Boyd nodded and walked off, and Erica smiled at Stiles. “I don’t do well on my own, so I’m going to stick by you, kay?” 

“Kay,” Stiles replied, before he glanced around. “So should we mingle or sit down?”

“Sit down,” Erica said, so they moved over to a pair of lawn chairs. As Erica got comfortable, she asked, “So how is Peter?” She practically sang it.

Stiles snorted to himself. “He’s fine. He’s working today, so he probably wants to kill everyone. We’ve fallen into a kind of routine. We text through the day and Skype at night.” A smile grew on his lips. “I told my friends about him and the money he gives me.”

“And?” Erica asked, looking excited. 

“And they didn’t understand at first, but after I explained, they came around. I mean, my friend Isaac thinks Peter is a gross panty sniffing pervert, but that’s because Isaac is an asshole.” He shrugged, taking a drink of the punch. “My best friend, Scott, seems to get it though, and that’s something. He’s always in my corner.”

Erica slid down a bit in her chair, sighing softly. “That’s good. I was worried.”

“You were the one that urged me to tell them,” Stiles said, a little loudly, before he covered his mouth as a couple people looked their way.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t worry,” Erica replied, before she stuck out her tongue, which was adorable. 

Boyd came over to them, and Erica stood up so he could sit then climbed all over his lap, putting her arms around his neck. They looked so cute like that, so happy. It was just obvious that Boyd made Erica happy, and with the small smile on his lips, it was apparent he was happy too.

“So what’s it like having a Daddy that’s so far away? Is it like any other long distance relationship?” Erica asked, rubbing Boyd’s head like a Buddha statue’s belly. Boyd looked like he would be purring if he had the ability.

“I guess,” Stiles said with a shrug. “We talk all the time. It’s like any other relationship I have, plus money and, y’know.” He sipped at his drink again.

“I know. Has he made plans to come visit you?” Erica asked. “If he can pay you money every week, he can come in for a weekend.”

“I don’t…” Stiles flushed at the idea of having Peter close, of being able to touch him, feel him in person. They could do so much in person, so many things he’d never done before. “We haven’t talked about it.” 

“You should,” Erica insisted gently. “At least ask him about it. Maybe he’ll fly you out to him and spoil you for a while.”

Stiles laughed at the idea. “I have school, Erica.” Though he’d always wanted to visit New York to see what all the fuss was about.

Erica waved her hand dismissively. “If you’re creative, you can figure it out. At least mention it to him.” 

Stiles nodded, dropping his eyes and hoping that Peter would want to meet. He certainly had the money to make it happen, but would he want to change what they have? Distance made things clean, kind of cold despite Stiles’s best effort. He wanted mess, something dirty and hot.

“I’ll ask him,” Stiles said.

"Good, the secret to any good relationship is the baby boy or girl having their Daddy wrapped around their little finger. Isn't that right?" Erica looked to Boyd, grinning, and he leaned in to blow a raspberry against her neck. That had her howling with laughter and kicking her feet.

Stiles snickered, before he looked over as Alexis called out the food was ready.

The rest of the time at the munch was fun. They ate, then Alexis put on some loud music and prodded at people until they started to dance. Stiles was not a good dancer, but he had fun flailing his body around until he was doubled over laughing. He talked to a few new people, and he promised to add them on FetLife after taking note of their pen names.Alexis made him promise to come back when the next munch rolled around, and it didn’t take much effort for him to agree.

* * *

"Erica made fun of me for knowing all of the words to Call Me Maybe," Stiles said, smiling as he leaned against his pillows and ate the frozen custard Lydia bought for everyone. It was chocolate with Oreo pieces.

Peter was smiling at him from his computer screen. "I wish I could have gone with you to see your dance moves."

"Have you ever seen a wiggling piece of boiled spaghetti?" Stiles asked with a grin.

Laughing, Peter nodded his head.

"Then you've seen my dance moves."

"Maybe so," Peter said, looking very amused. "But it would have been nice if I could have gone with you."

Stiles poked at his frozen custard, before he cleared his throat. "Erica asked of we were ever going to meet in person," he said, before he shoved a spoonful in his mouth.

Peter lifted his brows.

Stiles started to back pedal. "I mean, I'm happy with what we have. And it's pretty early in our relationship to-to--" Stiles’s face went red as he looked anywhere but at Peter.

"Do you want to meet in person? Honestly?" Peter asked, and Stiles looked at him. His expression was open, receptive, and he had an encouraging little smile.

Stiles swallowed. "Yeah. I really do."

"Then I will make arrangements," Peter said, leaning offscreen and coming back with his phone. "Let me see when I'm free."

Stiles gnawed on his plastic spoon as he watched Peter scroll through his phone. He was probably very busy, being an excellent photographer for such a prestigious company.

"What are you doing next month, seventeenth through the twentieth? It’s a Thursday through Sunday." Peter looked back at the screen questioningly.

"Uh, nothing really," Stiles replied, tapping himself on the nose with the spoon. "I have school. My birthday is the nineteenth. I don't really do much on the weekends--"

"Wait, your birthday?" Peter cut in, and Stiles nodded. "Well, obviously I need to come visit so I can shower you with gifts and affection." He laughed as Stiles hid his face. "Among other things."

Stiles blushed hard at that, nodding. "Yeah, that sounds good."

"I'll buy a ticket right now," Peter said, tapping away at his phone. "I'll come in the afternoon of the seventeenth and leave the afternoon of the twentieth. That should give me ample time to treat you like a prince."

Stiles squirmed a little, barely containing the joy he was feeling. He was probably going to pounce Peter the moment he saw him. It would be embarrassing, but Stiles couldn’t wait to smooch that face.

Peter set down his phone when he was finished and turned his eyes back to Stiles.

* * *

It was the night before Peter was coming to California, and Stiles was a bundle of nerves. "You sure you don't need me to come and pick you up?" Stiles was asking as he chewed on the string to his hoodie. "I can borrow Allison or Lydia’s car."

"No, it's fine," Peter assured him, smiling. "I would rather rent a car so I can explore the city with you."

Stiles dropped his hoodie string and grinned. "And here I thought we were going to spend the whole time in bed."

"Well, we've got to eat," Peter told him, eyes crinkling at the corners. "But we will definitely be doing a lot of things in bed too."

Stiles shivered. "Cool."

"I have much in planned for you, that's for certain," Peter promised him, before he grabbed his phone and looked at the time. "Well, I suppose I should sleep since I have to be at the airport in ten hours."

Stiles let out an embarrassing squeal. "I'm so excited." He covered his mouth, hardly able to contain his giggles.

Peter looked pleased. "Me too."

* * *

Stiles was in his second class when his phone buzzed.

From Peter: 1:13pm  
_I have made it Oakland and am renting a car. I slept on the plane and now I feel a little crazed. When are you out of class?_

To Peter: 1:14pm  
At three.

From Peter: 1:15pm  
_That gives me some time to unpack then. Then I will steal you away and not give you back until tomorrow._

To Peter: 1:15pm  
That sounds ominous. :P So I should pack a bag?

From Peter: 1:16pm  
_I am a selfish creature. And yes._

From Peter: 1:17pm  
_I'll pick you up from your apartment?_

To Peter: 1:18pm  
Sounds good.

After his last class, Stiles booked it to the apartment. He leaned his bike against the wall in the entryway and went into his room, hopping into the shower. When he was done, he dressed up to the waist and walked out into the living room where everyone was sitting, vigorously towel drying his hair.

"Okay, who's got a hair dryer I can borrow?" he asked, and Allison, Lydia and Isaac all raised their hands. 

Once his hair was dry, he pulled on his Captain America shirt and Green Lantern chucks. Then he shoved some stuff in an overnight bag and raced through the living room again. He went out onto the staircase ledge to wait, looking over the covered parking.

He stood there, anxious as a puppy, for about ten minutes, before his phone started to ring. He grabbed it and looked at the name, finding it was Peter calling him.

He put it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Your apartment complex is a maze," Peter said by way of greeting.

Stiles snorted. "Go left at the office and right at the mailboxes. Keep going to the end, that's where I am."

"In my defense, I am a tourist," Peter said, and Stiles laughed.

"Uh huh," Stiles said, before a car turned onto the stretch to his building. "What color car are you driving?"

"Blue."

"I see you. I'm coming down," Stiles said, turning and jogging down the stairs with his bag bouncing against his hip. He put his phone into his pocket and grinned as he moved out into the parking lot.

Peter pulled up close and got out of the still running luxury car. And _fuck_ he was handsome. It made Stiles’s breath catch. He was wearing a soft looking v-neck with a jacket and black pants. And when Peter smiled, Stiles would have swooned if he were the swooning type. All thoughts of pouncing left his head as he stood there.

Peter was not struck dumb though. He walked up to Stiles and took him by the back of his head, drawing him into a kiss. Stiles whimpered as he yielded completely, sagging into him and letting his lips part. Peter took ownership of the space with his tongue, slipping over his teeth and flicking across the roof. 

Stiles held onto his shoulders, clinging, and he was a bit disoriented when the kiss ended. It was the best kiss he'd ever received bit that was an easy win since the last and only other one had been a surprise kiss at his friend's birthday party. He licked his lips, chasing Peter’s taste.

"Hello, baby boy," Peter said into his ear, and Stiles shivered. "It's nice to finally meet you in person. I've been craving a taste of you for weeks."

"Hi, Daddy," Stiles murmured, before he opened up his mouth as he was kissed again. He slid his hands down Peter’s back and linked them just over his butt. He was going to develop a technique if they kissed enough.

"Hey!" 

They pulled apart and looked up. There, on the third story ledge of the stairs, were all of Stiles’s roommates. 

"Are you going to introduce him to us?" Isaac asked with a shit eating grin. "Or are you just going to suck his face off?"

Stiles hid his face in Peter’s neck, groaning. "Do you want to meet my friends?" he asked.

"Sure," Peter said, snorting in amusement, before he took Stiles’s bag from his shoulder. "Let me move the car somewhere that isn't in the way."

After he did that, Stiles led him up the stairs, wanting to lace their fingers and swing their hands like they were frolicking through a field of flowers. He refrained, but that was how he felt. The others had gone back into the apartment, and Stiles a bit like he was walking to the gallows as he went inside and through to the living room. Everyone was standing there, waiting.

"So this is the gang," Stiles said, sweeping his arm out to indicate his friends, before he went to introduce them one by one. “That’s Scott."

"Ah yes, the best friend," Peter said with an easy smile. "Then, by extension, you must be Isaac and Allison."

Isaac blinked his big bright eyes as Allison beamed. "That's us."

"And that must make you Lydia and Jordan." 

Lydia looked a little suspicious. "Stiles has told you all about us, I see?"

"Only good things, I assure you." Peter seemed to take her mild distrust in stride. It was a bold faced lie though. Stiles had told him all about how Allison snored like a chainsaw, Isaac’s unhealthy obsession with scarves, how Lydia was barely even human before her first cup of Joe and so on.

"Yes, so this is everyone. They're annoying, and I can understand if you want to escape and never come back," Stiles said, leaning into the man while trying not to be too obvious.

“Aww,” Scott complained with a pout.

But Peter just laughed gave the group a wave. “Hi, I’m Peter.”

“Peter what?” Lydia asked. “Stiles said you’re a photographer for Vogue, which I read religiously.”

Stiles made a face at her that said _Lydia oh my god_.

But Peter didn’t seem phased by it. “Peter Hale.”

Lydia let out a loud gasp, before she covered her mouth as everyone stared at her. “You did those features of Lupita Nyong’o,” she said, her eyes widening as big as plates. 

“I did,” Peter said with a nod. “She’s a lovely person.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “We text sometimes.”

Lydia looked like she wanted to freak out, her eyes a bit wide, before she cleared her throat and got her composure back. “Are you planning on treating Stiles well?” she asked, smoothing her hands across her skirt. 

“As royalty,” Peter said without hesitation, and Stiles would have climbed him like a tree had they been alone.

Lydia seemed pleased with that answer. She walked up with Stiles and patted him on the head. “You did good,” she said, and he rolled his eyes at her. Then she looked at Peter again. “He has class at ten tomorrow.”

“I wouldn’t dream of letting him skip it,” Peter assured her.

“Thanks, mom,” Stiles sighed at her, before he frowned as she grabbed his head and pulled it down so she could kiss his forehead.

Later, as he and Peter were walking down the steps, he pointed to his forehead. “Is there a lipstick stain?” he asked.

Peter laughed, lifting his hand to rub at the spot. “Yes. I like your friends, by the way. I’m sure I can get a signed picture of Lupita for Lydia.” 

“You will make her life,” Stiles said, just imagining the screaming. They got into the car, and Stiles buckled himself in, brimming with excitement. “So what first?” 

“Are you hungry?” Peter asked, starting up the car and turning it around to head out of the complex. 

“Always,” Stiles admitted, and Peter snorted. 

“Good, because I haven’t eaten today, since the food on the plane tasted like plastic.” 

“Even in first class?” Stiles said, eyebrow twitching up. 

Peter smiled to himself. “Even in first class.” He pulled out onto the road. “Any suggestions?” 

“There’s a great place for buffalo wings not too far away,” Stiles said.

Laughing softly, Peter shook his head. “You could have chosen the most expensive restaurant in the city, and I would have taken you, but you want wings.”

“I always want wings,” Stiles told him with a shrug. “Besides, I don’t have to pretend I know which fork is the salad fork at a bar and grill.” 

“I see,” Peter said, still smiling. “Then you can’t judge me for being uncoordinated and getting sauce all over my face.” 

“I might judge you a little,” Stiles said, nudging Peter’s arm with his elbow. “15% of my normal judgement.”

“How kind of you.” Peter was grinning all the same.

When they got to the wings place and to a booth, Stiles sat across from Peter and fidgeted with his hands under the table. He could hardly believe he was here, with Peter, who’d felt more like a dream than anything for two months. Now that he was here, in the flesh, Stiles was resisting the urge to sit in his lap. He was pretty sure the other patrons wouldn’t appreciate it.

“I want to say something like ‘how are things?’ but since I’ve talked to you everyday for a while now, I already know what you've been up to,” Peter said, looking at Stiles was a softness to his expression. “So tell me, what do you want to do for your birthday?”

Stiles smiled and looked down. “I don’t know. I haven’t really had a party or anything since I was in high school. My dad usually just calls me and waxes on about how I used to be so small and run around naked through the house after pulling my diaper off.” He paused, blinking at Peter’s smirking face. “What a thing to impress you with on our first date.”

Peter laughed, laced his fingers on the table top. “Well, I find it adorable. And since you don’t usually do anything, that means I can squirrel you away in the hotel room.”

“I thought you were going to shower me with gifts,” Stiles said, though holing up in the hotel all weekend sounded great.

“I did buy you a few things. They’re at the hotel.” Peter sat back as their food arrived, humming as he looked down at his wings, which were slathered in sauce and looking messy.

Stiles licked his lips. “You shouldn’t have told me that,” he said, and Peter gave him a lifted brow. “Now I’m going to be thinking about what you got me all day until you give them to me.” 

That smile was back on Peter’s face. “Good.” He grabbed a few napkins out of the dispenser on the table. “I don’t plan on giving them to you until your birthday.”

Stiles whined over a bite of chicken. “That’s not fair,” he complained, cheek bulging with food. “You can’t just tell me you have presents then not give them to me.”

“Don’t speak with your mouth full,” Peter said, and Stiles swallowed his food down immediately. “And I can do what I like. I know you’re going to be a good boy and be patient.” He was speaking so plainly, soft enough that no one that wasn’t paying serious attention would hear, but firm enough that it sent thrills through Stiles’s body. “Isn’t that right?”

Stiles bit his lip and nodded, and he said, in a quiet voice, because he didn’t want anyone to hear, “Yes, Daddy.”

“Good boy,” Peter said, before he took a bite of his food. 

After that, Stiles got a little zany. He talked about anything that came to his head as they ate, eager to fill the silence, and Peter didn’t stop him. Though when all that was left of their food was bones, Peter reached over and took his hand, holding it against the table and running his thumb over the knuckles. It soothed the anxiousness in Stiles’s brain, which was a difficult thing to achieve. For a moment, Stiles’s only focus was Peter, like tunnel vision. 

But then Peter took away his hand as the server came over to give them the check. Peter paid cash and left it on the table, standing up. Stiles stood too, and he smiled when Peter put an arm around his shoulders. He put an arm around Peter’s waist, leaning into him as they walked out. Peter opened the car door for him this time, and Stiles made a squeaky little sound of delight.

If this was what being spoiled was like, he was way into it.

The hotel that Peter had chosen had a grand entrance and a valet. Peter grabbed Stiles’s bag and led him into the building. There were fresh flowers on the tables and soft music. Stiles felt underdressed. He followed Peter into the elevator, licking his lips as Peter hit the button for the top floor. 

Stiles let out a shaky breath as he was crowded into the side of the elevator, Peter bracketing his head with his arms, palms against the wall. He whimpered as he was kissed, body arching into Peter’s when it was pressed against him. He curled his fingers around the lapels of Peter’s jacket, kissing back with all he had until the elevator stopped and Peter pulled back, leaving him breathless.

“Come along, baby.” Taking Stiles’s hand, Peter pulled him out into the hall and down to the last door, before he fetched a cardkey out of his pocket and let them in. 

The room wasn’t extravagant as it could have been, soft looking seating and glass tables. Stiles didn’t get much of an opportunity to look around before Peter was leading him into the bedroom, and Stiles had to catch his breath. Was he ready for this? He wanted it, sure, almost more than anything, but wanting wasn’t the same as being prepared. 

The bedroom was much like the living room, modestly decorated. There was a plush window seat that looked like it would be great to snuggle on. Stiles had never had someone to cuddle with, so he was going to take advantage. He was the birthday boy, so he was allowed. Hopefully.

The bed was huge and soft looking with cream sheets and pillowcases and beige comforter that was probably down. He walked over and checked. Yup, down. He looked over as Peter set Stiles’s bag on the dresser, before he let his jacket slide off his arms to be thrown over the back of the reading chair.

Stiles sidled over and touched Peter's arms, his biceps, grinning as Peter flexed for him. Then he laughed as Peter swept into his gorgeous arms and carried him maiden style back over to the bed. He squealed in such a manly way when he was dropped and bounced before the bed started to engulf him. He bit his lip as Peter pulled off his shoes and socks, tossing them away.

Stiles wiggled out of his own shirt and chucked it somewhere, he didn't care. He went for the front of his pants, eager to remove them and get down to business, but Peter caught his wrists.

"Easy, darling, we have plenty of time," he said, lifting Stiles’s hands to kiss his palms. "I want to go slow, that way I can take you apart and put you together again with so much pleasure you won't be able to form words, just feel."

Stiles didn’t know what to say to that, so he just nodded and watched as Peter drew back to kick off his shoes and pull off his shirt. He got onto the bed, pulling Stiles into his arms, and Stiles gasped at the feel of skin against skin. He tilted his head up so Peter could catch his lips, and they settled into a kiss as Peter’s hands swept leisurely over exposed skin.

Kissing was a thing Stiles was pretty sure he was getting good at. He was learning out to roll his tongue against Peter’s, to nip and lick like Peter did. He sucked at Peter’s tongue and delighted in the moan it pulled out of the man. 

Something about this fanned the flame in Stiles’s belly, a rolling heat that had his cock twitching and hardening. It drew whines from his throat as he tried to pressed closer, tried to rut against Peter’s thick thigh, but Peter had him pinned with a firm grip on his hip. 

It didn’t stop Stiles from whimpering though. “Daddy, please,” he whispered against Peter’s lips. “I need it, need you.” He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and hoped he looked appealing enough to just fuck already.

“I know what you’re doing,” Peter said with a smirk, because he was no fool, and Stiles was ridiculous for trying to manipulate him. “I’ll have to give you a lesson in patience.” His eyes dropped to Stiles’s mouth. “Another time.” Then he sat up and undid Stiles’s pants, pulling them down and off with his underwear.

Stiles squeaked as he was left naked, feeling exposed, and he had the absurd urge to cover himself, even though Peter had seen every bit of him. It was different, Stiles was finding. He was determined not to give into his embarrassment. Instead, he spread his legs wide, catching his knees and pulling them up so he was completely exposed.

Something dangerous entered Peter’s eyes as they swept over what was being displayed for him. His eyes appeared a little more blue until his pupils got huge. He leaned in and mouthed Stiles’s hip, terribly close to his dick, which he took hold of and gave a few pumps, wrenching a whine from Stiles’s lips.

Stiles had never felt so turned on in his life. He just panted as Peter pulled away and went to the dresser, opening a drawer and pulling out a bottle of lube. He pushed his feet against the bed to lift his hips up, beyond ready and willing. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips as Peter lubed up his fingers. Something like a keen left his mouth as those slick fingers left a wet circle around the rim of his hole, before one sank inside him.

“Oh fuck,” Stiles whined, grasping the blanket under him and clenching down on Peter’s finger. It felt strange, but it was a good strange. He couldn’t predict the way Peter was going to move his fingers, and it just made it all the most pleasurable. 

“I know, dearest,” Peter said, leaning over and kissing Stiles as he pressed another finger inside, and he swallowed the sound Stiles made. They kissed, messy and wet, as Peter moved his fingers in and out of Stiles, scissoring and crooking. Each pass over Stiles’s prostate wrenched a nice from his throat. 

It was too much, too good. Stiles had to break the kiss and suck in a few breaths. “Fuck, I’m gonna--if you keep doing that...”

Peter’s fingers moved away from that spot inside Stiles, instead just focusing on stretching him. “I want you to come on my dick, not before.”

“I’m ready, I am,” Stiles tried to insist, rocking his hips. “Give it to me.” 

“Soon, pet,” Peter promised, dragging his lips against Stiles’s jaw. “I am _considerably_ larger than your toys. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

Three of Peter’s fingers was more than Stiles had ever taken, and he had to breathe through the stretch as Peter was sucking what was probably an impressive mark on his neck. As he got used to it, his body relaxed those last few increments, and then Peter was pulling away. Stiles watched him walk across the room to the same drawer and pull out a shiny square foil packet. 

Stiles bit his bottom lip as Peter came back, putting the corner of the condom between his teeth, undoing his pants, and dropping them so that his cock sprang out. It should have been funny, but Stiles’s breath caught as he got a good look at Peter’s dick. It was definitely larger than he’d thought it was. 

Getting up onto the bed, Peter stacked the pillows against the headboard and leaned against them. He crooked his finger at Stiles in a come hither motion, so Stiles crawled over, his limbs a little unsteady, as Peter ripped open the packet and rolled the condom down his fat dick. Then he lubed it up more and held his hand out for Stiles. 

Stiles grabbed it and used it as support as he threw a leg over Peter’s thighs and knelt above his dick. “Should I just…?” 

“Here,” Peter said, holding the base of his dick and holding it upright. “Sink down. Go slow.”

Looking down between his legs, Stiles tried to aim right, but the head of Peter’s cock just ended up sliding through the crack of his ass. Face burning, Stiles reached behind himself and caught Peter’s dick, managing to aim it right this time. He winced a bit as the head of Peter’s cock breached him, feeling like the whole world was creeping up his ass. 

“Shit,” Stiles breathed out, his hands finding Peter’s shoulders as he continued down, down, until Peter was fully seated in him. Stiles was _shaking._

“That’s it,” Peter said, his voice a bit raspy but still soothing, as he ran his hands up and down Stiles’s quivering thighs. “Take your time. You feel so good around me, baby.” 

Whimpering, Stiles leaned forward, and Peter met him halfway, their foreheads connecting, pressed together all hot and sweaty skin. It took him a little bit before the burn of the stretch eased enough for him to even think about moving. And when he did, he mewled at the burst of pleasure as Peter’s cock dragged along his inner walls, nailing the right spot.

Peter let him find his own pace, just held his hips and murmured words of encouragement. “You’re wonderful,” he was whispering. “Don’t stop. You’re doing so well.” His fingers dug into Stiles’s skin a bit. “You’re perfect, baby.” 

Stiles was going a little faster, his pleasure growing in his belly, a roiling he couldn’t control. He could barely keep his eyes open. He bit his lips together, trying to keep the noises in.

But Peter took him by the chin and opened his mouth for him, getting a loud gasp for his efforts. “Don’t you dare hide those noises from me,” he demanded, and the firmness of his voice just gave Stiles a shot of heat through his dick. “I want you loud. Go on, let me know how much you love Daddy’s cock.”

Well that made Stiles’s body seize, his orgasm taking him completely by surprise. He shouted as he spurted onto Peter’s stomach and chest, probably gripping his shoulders tight enough to bruise. He sagged into Peter’s front, breathing hard.

It took him a minute for his brain to reboot, and when it did, he sat back up and looked at Peter, who lifted his brows at him. “Oh, oh shit, I didn’t--I didn’t mean to--” he tried to say, realizing Peter was still hard inside him, even when Stiles was pretty much a bag of wet noodles. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” He covered his face with his hands.

“Shh, pet, there’s nothing to apologize for,” Peter assured him, peppering the backs of Stiles’s hands with kisses. “I didn’t honestly think a virgin would have an expert’s stamina. We’ll work on it.” He curled his fingers under Stiles’s backside and started to move him again, effortlessly strong.

Stiles was impressed in the parts of his brain that weren’t swimming in dopamine and oxytocin.

It wasn’t long before Peter had him bouncing in his lap, lifting and dropping him on his dick, Stiles letting out a gasp each time. Pleasure was filling him up again, not enough to resurrect his sleeping dick, but certainly enough so this wasn’t a chore. He scratched his nails along Peter’s shoulders, putting his head back as little ‘uhn, uhn’s left his mouth with each impact.

Peter was breathing harder too, lips parted and pupils blown wide. 

There was definitely going to be fingerprint bruises on Stiles’s ass, but he didn’t give a shit. He leaned in and mouthed at Peter’s jaw. “C’mon, give it to me.”

With a surprised little noise, Peter held Stiles in his lap as his dick twitched deep in his ass, no doubt filling the condom. Stiles wrapped his arms around his shoulders and mewed into his ear. 

They stayed like that until Stiles forgot what time was.

He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew he was being lowered onto the bed, his body weighted, before he whimpered as Peter pulled out. Peter shushed him softly, kissing his forehead before getting off the bed. Stiles didn’t bother with keeping his eyes open, just listened as Peter puttered about, the sound of him turning on a tap and the quiet thuds of his bare feet on the floor.

He moaned as he felt a soft, damp cloth cleaning his bits, wiping him almost unnecessarily, before Peter lifted up his leg and wiped up the lube in the crack of his ass. Honestly Stiles wouldn’t have bothered. He would have slept sticky.

The lights went out, and Peter climbed back into bed, snuggling in close. He pressed his face into Stiles’s neck and took a deep breath, and Stiles didn’t quite understand it, but he was 94% asleep. He shoved his face against some patch of skin and heard Peter let out a chuckle, before he descended into slumber.

* * *

Going to school on Friday was torture, because Peter was just out of reach, so much closer than he was used to. When he got out of school, he was more than excited that he didn’t have any responsibilities for two whole days. He spent Friday night rolling around on the sheets and learning what rimming felt like.

On the morning of his birthday, Stiles was cradled against Peter’s chest, sharing a platter of fresh fruit with him. They weren’t talking, not really. They were just enjoying each other. Stiles was making his way through the tart green apple slices. Peter was focused on Stiles’s chest, his finger trailing from one mole to the next.

“Are you playing connect the dots?” Stiles asked softly. 

“I’m connecting constellations,” Peter replied, before he flicked Stiles’s nipple, causing him to giggle. Then he reached for the strawberries.

“Tell me something about yourself,” Stiles prompted, and Peter let out a soft ‘hm?’ “Something embarrassing that no one else knows.”

Peter snorted and shoved a strawberry in his mouth. He seemed to be thinking as he chewed, and when he swallowed he sat up a little more. “Okay, about three weeks ago, I was having a bout of insomnia, so I was flipping through the channels on TV.” He smiled, shaking his head a little. “I landed on an animal rescue show.”

“Oh no,” Stiles said, because that could only be bad, right?

“This segment was about a dog they’d found with fleas, mange and a busted back leg,” Peter went on. “They refused to give up on the little guy, even though his recovery was touch and go. He almost died during the surgery to amputate his leg.”

Stiles let out a little whimper.

Peter kissed his nose. “But in the end, he recovered and was a happy little champ with three legs. The last shot was of him swimming happily in a pool.” Peter breathed in then let out a deep sigh. “I cried.” He dropped his cheek on Stiles’s shoulder.

Stiles couldn’t help himself; he laughed like a maniac. 

“Oh, you,” Peter huffed, pushing Stiles down on the bed and tickling his sides and fruit went everywhere. “It’s not that funny!”

“Yes, it is!” Stiles countered, squealing.

Then his phone started to ring, and they stopped. Stiles reached for it and looked at the screen. “Oh, it’s my dad,” he said, swiping his thumb over the screen and putting it to his ear. “Yo, male parental unit, what’s shakin’?” 

His dad laughed a little in his ear. “Hello, Stiles. Happy birthday.” 

“Thanks, pops,” Stiles said, taking a grape when it was offered to him.

“Are you doing anything special today?” John asked.

“Nah, you know me, I’m just chillaxin’.” Stiles shifted so he was leaning against Peter again. “I’m not having a party or anything, so I think one or two people owe me gifts.” He made sure to give Peter a pointed look.

Peter grinned at him.

“Good, good, well I’m going to be in the neighborhood soon, so I thought we could hang out. I was working on your twenty-first, so I thought we could make up for it with your twenty-second.”

Sirens started going off in Stiles’s head. Mayday, mayday, abort mission. “Uh, you don’t have to do that,” he said, withering. 

“I would like to buy my son a beer on his birthday. Humor your old man.” 

Stiles looked at Peter, before he let out a little “Kay.”

_Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUUUUN I crack myself up.
> 
> Up next: Dad meet Daddy
> 
> Update by: ~~5/3/15~~ Someday! I have hella bad writer's block. I can't write for shit right now.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this took forever to write. I had some serious writer's block and depression, but I'm better now. It's a long one, so hopefully that makes up for it.

"I don't have to meet your father if you're worried about what he'll say. I don't mind being a secret," Peter was saying as Stiles's world was going up in flames. He sounded so calm, while Stiles was making a distressed whine in his throat, staring down at his phone.

His noise ended on a squeak when Peter caught him and pulled him into his lap. Oh god, they were naked. Stiles was going to see his father on a day where he'd been naked with someone twice his age. He was a shameful son. He needed a shower.

"It's alright," Peter murmured into his ear. "I don't need to meet him."

"I want you to," Stiles blurted, curling up because he felt soothed, partly buried into Peter’s front. He lifted his head to look at Peter’s curious blue eyes. Fuck, he had such beautiful eyes. "I feel like... This--" He gestured back and forth between them. "I feel like it's going to last." He licked his lips as Peter lifted his brows. "Fuck, that sounds so stupid, I know. It's not like I have any experience with this kind of thing. And I don't even know if you _want_ to meet my father. I--"

Peter silenced him with a kiss, and Stiles whimpered into it. "I want to," Peter assured him, their lips sliding together. "You're very special to me." He slid his partly open mouth up to kiss Stiles’s temple. 

"So you didn't fly across the country for a booty call?" Stiles said with a weak chuckle, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

"Most certainly not," Peter told him, smiling into his skin. 

Stiles felt like he was spinning. Before, they had just been having fun, but now? Now he wasn't sure what they were. They'd gone from puttering along to full speed.

"Okay then, you're meeting my dad. This is happening. I don't know what he'll say. When I told him I like dudes, he was just like 'oh, well, whatever makes you happy, kiddo.' That was a perfect impersonation, stop laughing at me."

"I'm sorry," Peter said, clearly not sorry at all as he covered his chuckles with his hand. "You're just so adorable."

Stiles couldn’t help but stick out his tongue at the man, which just amused him further. “I’m not adorable. I’m the manliest manly man to ever man.”

“Of course you are, dearest,” Peter replied.

“I’m so rugged,” Stiles insisted, pouting, and Peter just hummed a gentle ‘mmhm’ into his hair.

“What time will your father arrive?” Peter asked, trailing his knuckles lightly up Stiles’s arm.

Stiles shivered. “About two hours, he said.”

“Good, then we have plenty of time,” Peter said, getting his arms under Stiles and lifting him like he weighed nothing.

Stiles flailed a bit and tangled his arms around Peter’s neck. “Plenty of time for what?” he squeaked as he was carried.

“A bath,” Peter provided easily, toting him into the bathroom and setting him down on the tile, before he flicked on the light. 

“Oh,” Stiles said, looking at the bath tub. It was certainly big enough for the two of them. It was a jacuzzi with water jets and all. He’d been wanting to take it for a spin since he saw it, but he hadn’t had the time before class the day before. But that was alright, because Peter had showered with him and made sure he was extra clean and covered with hickeys.

Oh shit, the hickeys! The side of his neck looked like he got attacked by a band of leeches. (Band? What was a group of leeches called? He would have to Google that.) He couldn’t go see his father looking like he and Peter had been necking for three days straight, though they had. 

He rubbed as his neck as Peter fiddled with the hot and cold nozzles on the tub, getting the water to the perfect steamy temperature. “Okay, I have a question,” he said, and Peter looked up at him. “Be honest, does it look like I got mauled?” he asked, pointing to his bruised neck.

Peter’s lips moved like he was trying not to laugh, and he cleared his throat. “A bit. Worried your father will think I’m a vampire?” 

Stiles let out a little giggle. “Kinda. I’m mostly just worried he’ll realize I’ve been having sex, and I don’t want to break my father’s poor brain. He’s been through enough.”

“Well, it is a reality all parents must face eventually. Children become adults, and adults have sex,” Peter said, taking Stiles’s hand and stepping into the partially filled tub. He sat down on the seat and had Stiles situated across his lap in moments.

“If this is the part where you tell me you’re a dad?,” Stiles started, giving Peter a worried look.

“Fuck no,” Peter replied, and he looked momentarily shocked by his own urgency. “I mean, no, I’m not a father. I can’t even imagine myself as one. I’ve never been taken by the urge to reproduce, as it were.”

Stiles pressed his lips together to keep from smiling like a loon. Sometimes Peter sounded like an absolute dork, and it was painfully endearing. 

“However,” Peter went on, lifting a finger. “I am an uncle. I have two nephews and two nieces that walk all over me given half a chance.” He sighed rather dramatically. “My sister’s children might as well be mine.”

“I bet you’re a good uncle,” Stiles said, leaning his cheek against Peter’s shoulder.

"I like to think so," Peter replied. Then he looked down at the water. 

The tub was almost full. Stiles was set into the steamy water, and he was unable to keep himself from splashing once as Peter got out to retrieve the soap, shampoo and a loofah from the walk in shower.

Peter laughed, getting back into the tub and parking himself on the seat. "Try not to make a mess." He set his bounty down and turned off the taps.

"I feel like I’m eight years old," Stiles told him, skimming his hands across the water while Peter wet and lathered up the loufa. "It's been awhile since I've taken a bath."

"Well, it's due time for that to change," Peter said, before he reached out a slightly soapy hand and took Stiles’s arm. Then he began to run the loufa along it.

"Wow, you’re seriously bathing me right now," Stiles said, watching as Peter cleaned each one of his fingers. He didn’t think his hand had ever been so thoroughly washed.

"Do you dislike it?" Peter asked, scrubbing Stiles underarm.

"No," Stiles said, his lips splitting into a grin. "It's actually quite nice." He felt cared for, pampered, and it was a feeling that only Peter gave him.

He knew what to do if he ever didn’t like something Peter was doing. The man had explained the traffic lights system and told him that everything would stop if he needed. He just had to say 'Red.'

Peter scrubbed his shoulder before rinsing all the suds from his skin. Then he lifted the arm and kissed his inner wrist, a touch that made Stiles squirm and giggle. Peter smiled at him before he held his hand out for Stiles’s other arm.

Stiles gave it to him, watching as Peter washed it in the same way he'd done the other. Stiles had never been so thoroughly washed before. "Do I get to do you next?" he found himself asking, before he bit his lip.

"If you'd like," Peter replied with a smile. He finished with Stiles’s arm and slid off the bench into the hot water. He took Stiles by the ankle and lifted his foot and part of his leg up.

Stiles leaned back so he was comfortable, and he let out a sighing breath as Peter rub the loofah along his calf and in the crook of his knee. It tickled a bit, but not nearly as much as when Peter scrubbed at the bottom of his foot and between each of his toes. He giggled as his leg jerked.

"Ticklish?" Peter asked, dropping a kiss on the top of Stiles’s foot before lowering it back into the water.

"A bit," Stiles replied as Peter started on the other leg. "You're really thorough."

"Of course," Peter said, like Stiles shouldn't expect anything less. He washed that leg and foot in the same way, before he gave the knee and kiss. Then he turned a heated gaze on Stiles. "Get on your knees and turn around. Brace your arm on the side of the tub."

Stiles hurried to comply, splashing a bit as he did so. "Like this, Daddy?" he asked in a sweet voice, wiggling his bare ass at Peter.

Peter took hold of the globes of his ass with both hands and squeezed. "Fuck, baby, you have no idea what you do to me. I want to take you right here."

Stiles pushed back against those hands, his dick twitching with interest between his legs. "Then do it," he gasped.

"And undo all of the work I just did?" Peter tsked and pinched Stiles ass. "No, I want you squeaky clean." He grabbed the loofah and started soaping up Stiles’s back. "We have plenty of time tonight for me to have you on every surface in this suite. Don't you worry about that."

Stiles whined softly, dropping his head down between his arms. Peter had brought him from a near anxiety attack to wanting to be fucked senseless with a series of simple touches. He felt loose and calm, and he just whimpered as Peter washed his ass, dipping between the cheeks and soaping up his taint and balls. It made Stiles want to stay in the bath forever.

"There’s my sweet boy, all clean," Peter said, pulling Stiles back and into his lap. "Let's wash your hair, and we'll be that much closer to get getting your presents."

"Presents?" Stiles asked with a grin. He'd forgotten about those completely.

They cleaned his hair, and Stiles took the loofah to eagerly wash Peter. He straddled those meaty thighs and soaped up all the the skin he could. Peter had nice chest hair and a hard, flat tummy. His dick was pretty great too, and Stiles made sure to give it a few swipes off the loofah. Peter growled at him, which was insanely hot if totally strange.

When they were both clean, Peter hit the button to drain the tub and got out, lifting Stiles with him. He put Stiles on the fluffy bathroom mat and started to dry him off. Stiles had to grin as his hair was ruffled. He felt so completely pampered. He wanted to let Peter bathe him forever.

In the bedroom, Peter grabbed his suitcase out of the closet and put it on the bed. Stiles watched his naked ass as he moved.

"Here is your first present," Peter said, present him with a small red bag with black decorative tissue paper.

Stiles took it and moved the paper out of the way, his eyes going a bit wide when he figured out what was inside. He pulled the black satin panties out and swallowed heard. They had a little pink bow.

"Why do I get the feeling that these are just as much a present for you as they are for me?" Stiles asked, smiling anyway. He'd never thought about wearing panties before.

"In a way," Peter said with a shrug. "I want you to wear them today so I can drag them off with my teeth later. Are you opposed?"

"You would suggest such a thing on a day when I'll be with my father," Stiles said, before he stepped into the panties and pulled them up. "Hm." 

"How do they feel?" Peter asked, gravitating closer. "Are they too tight?" His voice had gone a bit lower with desire.

Stiles shuddered and wiggled a bit, testing the stretchiness of the panties. They weren’t tight across his cock like he'd expected them to be. They were just nicely snug. "No," he said with a swallow, making himself stop rubbing against the inside of the panties with his dick. "They feel nice."

"Good," Peter said, standing close and looking like he wanted to do delicious things to Stiles. But he was refraining. "Let's get dressed. Then I'll give you your next gift."

They parted to pull on clothes, and Stiles had to wiggle around a bit once he was dressed, feeling like he had a dirty little secret. It was definitely a turn on. Peter got clothed too, before he picked up a box from his suitcase and handed it over.

Stiles bounced on his feet with the gift, before he set it on the bed and started to tear into the wrapping paper. He threw off the box lid and squealed at what he saw inside. There were a number of things, like Xbox Live cards, Microsoft Points, things to sustain his gaming life. There were also two lanyards with badges connected to them. He pulled them out to get a good look and gasped loudly.

"VIP passes to _Comic Con?_ " he said in a disbelieving voice, turning to a smug looking Peter. 

"You did say you always wanted to go. When the time comes, I'll pay for the hotel as well."

Stiles was going to cry. He'd been wanting to go to Comic Con since he heard of it. It was nerd Mecca. Now he could take Scott that January, and they could be embarrassing fanboys together. It was like a dream come true.

"I don't know what to say," he whimpered, all choked up with his eyes getting wet.

"You don't have to say anything when it's your birthday," Peter told him, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "You deserve to be spoiled, and I love spoiling you. So it's a win-win situation for both of us."

Stiles turned and hugged Peter tight, feeling beyond emotional all of the sudden. He sniffed a few times, trying not to cry. Peter rubbed his back and arm, murmuring soft nothings about how Stiles was wonderful and should have everything he ever wanted.

"Shh, pet," Peter went on, pressing kisses to Stiles face where he could reach, since Stiles had borrowed into his shoulder. "Just wait until you see your last gift."

"There's more?" Stiles asked, pulling away as his eyes went wide. "Peter, I don't know if--" He stopped as Peter pressed a finger to his lips.

"It's nothing big. I'll give it to you tonight, after we've gotten through seeing your father. It will be a reward for both of us," Peter said in a voice that garnered no argument.

Stiles nodded, opening his mouth and sucking in Peter's finger. He hollowed his cheeks, and Peter growled softly at him. Still hot.

"Careful what you do with that beautiful mouth of yours," Peter warned him, extracting his finger. "Or we will be late."

Stiles just grinned.

They still had some time to kill before his dad would be in the area, and Stiles fidgeted through it. What was his dad going to say about... everything? The man was sharp, so he would figure stuff out pretty quick. Hopefully he wouldn't be disappointed, because Stiles couldn’t handle that, not from his own father.

He let out a bit of a shout when his phone began to sound, and Peter gave him an amused smile. They had been watching some mystery show, and Peter had been sitting pretty while Stiles was threatening to vibrate through the couch.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and looked at it. "It's my dad," he said, answering the call and putting it against his ear. "Hey, Pops, you in town?"

"Just got into the city," John said with a chuckle. "Where would you like to have lunch, kiddo?"

"If I say a steakhouse am I gonna be able to convince you to have a salad with your meal?" Stiles asked, rolling his eyes up.

"I suppose." John sighed like it was a chore. "Is Scott going to be joining us?"

"Uh," Stiles said, floundering a bit. "No, but I am bringing someone." He bit his lips together and looked at Peter, who tilted his head just a touch.

"Oh? Who?"

"Uh, uuuh." Stiles hadn’t thought this far. He couldn’t very well tell his dad he was bringing his Daddy. "My boyfriend," he decided, and Peter didn’t look disgusted or anything, so he guessed that was an okay term.

"Boyfriend?" John asked, sounding surprised. "You have a boyfriend? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm telling you now," Stiles said witheringly, and Peter caught his free hand to give it a squeeze. "You'll like him, Dad. He's a great guy."

"Well, if you say so." John didn’t sound convinced, but he did sound open-minded. 

Stiles gave his dad a few instructions to a nice steakhouse, before he ended the call and blew out a breath. "I feel like I should be praying. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, something something, amen."

Peter laughed at that, before he took Stiles’s hand and pulled him up. "Relax. Your father isn't going to shoot me if he doesn't like me, now is he?"

"Weeeell, he is a sheriff." Stiles schooled his features so he didn't smile as Peter looked shocked. "But he's off duty and probably not packing. Hopefully." 

Peter continued to looked worried until Stiles broke character and smiled wide at him. Peter snorted. “Smart ass little shit,” he said on a sigh, smiling anyway.

“It’s good you learn this now, so you know what you’ve gotten yourself into,” Stiles informed him as they walked out the door.

* * *

The steakhouse was a kind of hole in the wall place frequented by locals and college students. It wasn’t too busy for lunch, so they would probably get their food pretty quick. Stiles spotted his dad’s cruiser immediately, and Peter pulled into the spot next to it. Stiles took a moment to freak out again, sitting there as Peter shut off the car and got out. Then the passenger side door opened, and Peter was there with his hand out. 

Stiles smiled and took it. 

Inside the restaurant, the host asked if they were dining alone, and Stiles was looking around. “Actually, we’re meeting someone--oh, there he is.” He nodded to the host and pulled Peter passed some table towards where his father was sitting and looking at the menu. “Hey, Pops,” he said when they were close enough. 

His father looked up, smiling, but that smile faded as he noticed Peter there. His eyes dropped to their joined hands, and his brow furrowed in confusion, before something like annoyed astonishment spread across his features. He looked up at Peter, his mouth set in a line.

Great, this was going to be awesome.

“Dad, this is Peter. Peter, this is my dad, John,” Stiles said, trying not to get too anxious, which was an especially difficult thing for him. Serious, _anxiety_ was his middle name. 

Peter offered his hand, looking calm even when John was looking like he was going to do a background check on him. “Peter Hale. It’s nice to meet you, sir,” he said with a polite smile.

John slowly rose and took Peter’s hand. “How old are you?” he asked in lieu of a greeting. “You look at least thirty-five.”

Peter’s smile only widened. “That’s kind of you to say,” he replied, obviously knowing it wasn’t a compliment to his looks. “I’m forty-three.” 

John’s nostrils flared, and he sank back into the seat, apparently not sure what to do with this information. Stiles and Peter sat down too, and after collecting his thoughts, John asked, “How did you two meet? Are you a professor at Stiles’s school?” He narrowed his eyes in a way that said, _Because that’s illegal, and I will arrest your ass._

Stiles let out a nervous laugh and grabbed onto the bread appetizer on the table. He cut himself a big piece. “We met online,” he said, before he took a bite out of the bread. It was a delicious sweet wheat, and Stiles took a second to moan in pleasure. His father didn’t look amused though. “A, uh, social networking site,” he went on with his cheek bulging with bread.

“I see,” John said, and yup, that was his unimpressed and suspicious cop face. “What do you do for a living, Peter?”

“I’m a fashion photographer for Vogue,” Peter replied easily, apparently not intimidated. He still had a civil smile on.

“A college town doesn’t seem like the epicenter of fashion,” John remarked, pretending it was offhand.

“It’s not,” Peter agreed as Stiles stuffed his face with bread to avoid saying something stupid. “I live in New York City. I just flew out to spend time with Stiles on his birthday.”

God, this man was smooth.

“Huh,” John remarked, looking between them. “Are you using protection?”

“Daaad!” Stiles complained, choking on his mouthful of bread.

“Yes, we are,” Peter answered, patting Stiles’s back. “I would never do anything to put Stiles in harm’s way.” 

John sat back, looking momentarily soothed as he gazed at Peter, probably trying to figure him out. The server came by then, asking if they’d decided, though none of them had looked at the menu yet. She left them to look it over and to get some drinks for Stiles and Peter.

“So you must make quite a bit of money to be able to fly in from New York just to see someone,” John said carefully, making it sound like half a compliment and half an accusation. 

“I’m comfortable,” Peter replied, not looking insulted at all. That was rich person speak for _I'm loaded._ “I bought Stiles a few things that I hope he likes.”

Stiles wiggled in his seat, remembering he was wearing slick panties. “I do,” he assured Peter with a flush heating up his face. He looked to his dad. “He got me stuff for my Xbox and passes to Comic Con.”

"You must be a good photographer," John said, and it sounded like an accusation of seediness.

Peter didn’t bother with modesty. "I am," he replied. "But I do admit that not all of my money was earned."

"Oh?" John asked, and Stiles looked at Peter in question.

"About ten years ago, there was a fire in my family home," Peter said, and John and Stiles were taken aback. "My mother and father lost everything, including their lives. My sister and I split the life and house insurance payments."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Stiles’s father said, looking a bit pained.

"It's--well, it's not fine, but it's better now." Peter lifted a chin a bit. "It just gives me the money to spend on the ones I care about."

John squinted a moment, and Stiles could just see the cogs turning in his head. “Wait,” he said after a minute, before his eyes widened. “He’s the one that you got that money from, isn’t he?” he asked Stiles.

“Dad,” Stiles tried to say, and that was just an admission of guilt as outright confirming. 

“I knew you didn’t have a job,” John said, his voice raising just a notch. “He gave it to you. You lied to me.” 

Stiles let out a huff. “Yeah, because I knew you’d react like this. So what if he’s giving me money? He’s not paying me for anything.”

“Not for sex?” John asked, sounding a bit unsure now.

“That would be pretty hard to do from across the country, don’t you think?” Stiles replied, refusing to be embarrassed. “You’re acting like he’s some kind of predator. He pays me money because he wants to, and I’m not obligated to do anything. He made that clear from the beginning.” He looked to Peter and found him smiling, which made Stiles blush harder. “We-we have sex because we’re adults, and that’s what adults do. You’ll just have to deal with it.”

John frowned, but he sighed and slumped a little, looking defeated. Stiles beamed at him as his hand found Peter’s under the table, and Peter gave his fingers a squeeze. 

“Is he good to you?” John asked after a long moment of silence. There was a sincerity in his green eyes, because in the end he trusted Stiles’s decision making skills. Stiles had learned early on what was good for himself, for the both of them

Stiles smiled at him, slow like a sun rise. “He is. It’s not just the gifts and the money, it’s--” He looked at Peter again and resisted the urge to smooch his pretty face. “Yeah.”

“Then that’s all I need to know,” John said, nodding, before he set his elbow on the table and pointed at Peter. “Though, if you ever hurt him,” he began, and Stiles kicked him under the table.

* * *

Lunch actually went well. They all had steaks, and Stiles grinned as his dad ordered a side salad instead of the loaded baked potato he probably wanted. They talked about all kinds of things, such as the hours John worked, the places Peter had been and so on. When they got on the subject of sports, John even cracked a smile at Peter’s taste in favorite teams.

His dad got him a beer, and Stiles haughtily complained that it was far too early in the day, before he chugged it. He was delightfully buzzed by the time the check was placed on the table.

Both Peter and John reached for it, their hands meeting, and they looked at each other.

“I’ll get it,” John said, pulling at the booklet. 

“No, it’s fine...” Peter replied politely, tugging too.

This little tug-of-war was probably the most hilarious thing Stiles had seen in a while. 

“C’mon,” John huffed, not willing to back down.

“It’s perfectly alright, Sheriff,” Peter countered.

John managed to pry the booklet away. “If I’m going to lunch with my son and his boyfriend, I’m going to pay,” he said, smiling in victory and fondness.

A smile touched Peter’s lips as well. “If you insist,” he relented, putting his arm around Stiles’s shoulders. “Thank you.”

“Sure, no problem,” John said, fishing out his wallet.

They walked out into the parking lot together, stopping behind their cars. Peter and John looked at each other, before they extended their hands, shaking and smiling at each other. Stiles couldn’t help but grin at the sight.

“It was nice to meet you, Sheriff,” Peter said.

“Same to you, Peter. We’ll have to get together next time you’re in town.” John clapped Peter on the shoulder, before he turned to Stiles and spread his arms.

Stiles all but leapt at him, wrapping his arms around him and sniffing at he felt emotion well up in his throat. He was so happy that his dad and Peter got along, and while he may not understand, John wasn’t going to be killing Peter and hiding his body any time soon.

As John drove away, Stiles let out a long breath he’d probably been holding since they’d gotten there. He turned to Peter and gave him a beaming smile. “That worked out in a less disastrous way than I thought it would.”

“Yes, I am also pleased I was not perforated with bullets,” Peter said, returning the smile. “Your father had every right to interrogate me, but I doubt he would have told you never to talk to or see me again.”

“Why’s that?” Stiles asked, leaning against the trunk of the rental car.

“Because he respects your judgment,” Peter informed him, coming close and getting into his space. “He trusts that you know what’s best for yourself.” 

Stiles chewed at his bottom lip a second, before he lifted his hands and held Peter’s face. “I do, which is why I know you’re one of the best things in my life, and I don’t think that’s going to change.”

Peter grinned smugly at him, before he leaned in and caught his lips, licking into his mouth. It was the kind of kiss that Stiles could melt into, and the taste of success was sweet. Also, Peter kind of tasted like bacon.

“So when do I get my last present?” Stiles asked when they parted.

Peter laughed brightly. “Eager, are you? Get into the car, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Stiles hurried to comply, getting into the car and buckling himself in and looking at Peter eagerly. He couldn’t help but act like a kid on Christmas, but he rarely got things on his birthday now. It wasn’t like he minded though, because he was over twenty. At most, he got a cake. But Peter was spoiling him completely, and he found he liked it. 

“I owe you something,” Peter said, starting up the car and smirking. “Something I should have given you the day I got here.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and started tapping at the screen with his thumbs. 

“And what would that be?” Stiles asked, pawing impatiently at Peter’s arm.

Peter chuckled, before he seemed to accomplish what he was doing on his phone and set it on his thigh. “A date,” he said simply, before he put the car in reverse and backed out of the spot. He turned onto the road, smiling still.

Stiles blinked at him, realizing that was true. They’d spent most of the time in the hotel room, which had been awesome, but they hadn’t done anything as a couple. Seeing his father for lunch only kind of counted. He bit at the inside of his cheek and settled back in his chair.

“So where are you taking me?” he asked.

“Somewhere I did quite a bit of research on,” Peter told him, and his phone announce it was a quarter mile until he needed to turn right. “But that’s hours away. We need to get you ready first.”

“Get me ready?” Stiles asked. “What do you mean?”

“You, my darling, need a suit,” Peter replied with a bright grin.

Stiles mouth dropped open in surprise. "Is this place you're taking me to like crazy expensive? Where nothing is in English and there are no prices on the menu? A place where soda isn't an option?"

"Not a wine drinker, are you?" Peter asked lightly, the bastard.

"Not really," Stiles said, concerned now.

"Don't worry. They have beer too. And I will translate the menu for you," Peter said in a polite voice, before he turned when prompted 

They ended up in a large shopping center was at least a dozen stores. Nestled in the corner was a small shop with a dainty sign that advertised formal wear and same day alterations.

"You did some serious research on this town, didn't you?" Stiles accused goodnaturedly as he got out of the car and walked up to it with Peter.

"I did," Peter replied, opening the door for Stiles. "I even made the reservations at the restaurant while I was still in New York."

"Where I come from, that makes you an overachiever," Stiles said with a laugh, looking around the shop. He found what he'd expected, such as coats, pants, dresses and ties. There was a dais in the back with three mirrors and some curtains that probably led to dressing rooms.

"I like to have all of my bases covered," Peter replied, embracing his own dorkiness.

"I can see that," Stiles said, smiling wider.

A door at the back of the store opened, and in walked an older man with measuring tape around his hand. "Hello, what can I do for you gentlemen?" he asked with a weighted accent 

"Mr Friel?" Peter asked, putting out his hand. The old man nodded and clasped their hands together. "I'm Peter Hale. We spoke on the phone."

"Oh, right, right, you need a suit by six, yes?" Mr Friel asked, and Peter nodded. "For you or...?" He looked to Stiles.

"For my companion here," Peter clarified. "He is in dire need of a good suit."

Stiles wasn't allowed to say a word before he was swept past the counter and up onto the dais. He lifted his arms here, spread his stance there, and all and all tried to be accommodating while he was measured. Then he was pushed into the changing room with a pile of clothes in his arms. 

Taking off his clothing, Stiles realized that he still had the panties on. He blushed as he hurriedly switches pants. When he had the three piece suit on, he thought he looked pretty sharp, and he put on a smile as he stepped out, sock footed. "I've never worn a vest before."

"That is a tragedy," Peter remarked with a smirk, watching him the way a predator watched meat. He must have liked what he saw.

"Hm, is good, very good," Mr Friel said, getting him up onto the dais again to check the fit. "Maybe take in just a bit here." He tugged at the pants, which were just a little loose. "Shouldn't take long. I'll call you when ready?"

"We'll stay in the area," Peter said, shooting Stiles back into the changing room.

After Stiles was changed and Mr Friel went to start on the alteration, Peter and Stiles left the shop. 

"You're lucky he was there," Peter commented, putting his arm around Stiles’s neck.

"Why's that?" Stiles asked, smiling and lifting his hand to lace his fingers with Peter’s.

"Because when I saw you in the suit, I was ready you bend you over the counter," Peter informed him, turning him and starting down the strip.

"Good thing you have impulse control," Stiles purred to him, taking delight in his narrow-eyed stare. "You know I'm going to only wear that suit once, right? After tonight it'll just hang out in my closet. We could have just rented a suit for the night."

Peter looked genuinely offended by that idea. "Blasphemy," he spat with much feeling. "Every man needs at least one good suit. It will last you for years."

Stiles chuckled, putting his arm around Peter’s waist. "Okay, Daddy, if you say so." He pressed a kiss to Peter’s cheek.

Peter turned his head and caught those lips with his own, stalling in their walking so that didn’t fall on their faces or walk into anyone. After wasting a few minutes making out, they went to waste more time checking out the stores in the shopping center.

There was an Asian market called H-Mart, and when Stiles found the candy section, he squealed to himself. As he was picking out things, Peter went to get a cart, apparently refusing to be a pack mule. Stiles went with chocolate filled Hello Pandas, strawberry pocky and these little candies shaped like mushrooms with biscuit stems and chocolate caps.

The next thing that caught his notice was the large display of Ramune soda of everything flavor. "I haven't had these since I was a teenager," he said, grabbing several because he wanted to share them with his friends. He had so much money in his bank account at the moment. He might as well splurge. Peter didn't seem to mind his spree, just quietly guided the cart and watched Stiles with a fondness.

"Oh my god, is that a whole squid?" he asked, pressing his face against the display of fresh seafood. The squid was as long as his arm in body. It had to be twice that with its tentacles. He looked at Peter and found him covering his nose. "What?"

"I don't like the smell of uncooked fish," Peter told him.

"Oh." Stiles stepped away from the fresh fish and down an aisle with chips and snacks. "I couldn't smell it."

"I have a sensitive nose," Peter said with a shrug.

"Huh," Stiles said, before he got distracted by shrimp chips.

They made it through the rest of the food and into the part of the store with house implements. There were tea sets, decorated chopsticks, plates and more. The further they went, the more miscellaneous the stuff became. Stiles found a 100 pack of wood chopsticks for two dollars and was pleased. They never had enough chopsticks at the apartment.

There were neck pillows that looked comfortable. There was a weird tennis racket shaped bug zapper, and Stiles wanted it, mostly for the novelty, but Peter took it from him and said he'd just electrocute himself. (That was probably true.)

Stiles was looking at a humidifier that was shaped like a panda when Peter got the call that the suit was ready. He didn’t need a humidifier, but he wanted it because panda.

At the checkout, Stiles didn’t even blink at the final price, and he pulled out his wallet. Then he noticed Peter was doing the same. "Don't you dare!" he warned, jumping at the card reader and swiping his card. "I know you'll insist on paying for dinner. Let me get this."

Peter chuckled, putting his wallet back in his pocket. "If you must. I'm paying for your suit too."

"Yeah, you go ahead and flaunt that disgusting wealth of yours," Stiles said as he was handed the receipt.

"You love it," Peter accused.

Stiles flushed, because yeah, he did. "Maybe."

The suit looked like a million bucks, and it cost almost six hundred. Stiles gave Peter a nearly betrayed look. That was so much. Jesus. He should have insisted on paying for that too, but he'd been dumbfounded.

"You know there's not much of a point in giving me so much money if you're going to buy me everything," Stiles huffed at Peter once they were back inside the car.

Peter laughed and started the car. "I want to pamper you extra well on your birthday. Do you not like it?"

Stiles wiggled a bit in his seat. "No, it's cool. It’s just new to me,” he said, knowing he was blushing. If this was what being a baby boy was like, he should have got into it long ago. 

They drove around for a while after that, enjoying the classic rock station. Stiles mouthed the words to a few of the songs, watching the scenery go by. He’d lived in Berkeley, mostly, for almost four years now, and he was seeing new things. Maybe it was because he was a creature of habit and routine. It helped keep him sane.

Something dawned on him, and he turned down at the music, looking at Peter, who stopped at a light and looked back. “I’m sorry you had to bring up what happened to your parents,” he said, looking a bit pained. “My dad stepped over the line.”

Peter shook his head and looked back at the road, tapping the gas when the light turned green. “He was right to be suspicious. I don’t mind telling someone if it’s for a good reason.”

Eyebrows bowing, Stiles put his hand on Peter’s forearm. “Still, I’m sorry.”

Peter gave him a smile. “Thank you.”

After a bit more driving, Peter turned them towards the hotel. When they arrived, they left the stuff from the market in the trunk and headed upstairs with the suit. Peter laided the suit bag down on the bed, and Stiles kicked off his shoes and went to take off his shirt before Peter stopped him.

"Let me," Peter said, smiling as he took the hem of Stiles’s shirt and pulled it up. Stiles’s nipples tightened immediately, and Peter must have noticed, because he thumbed them.

Stiles let out a little moan, licking his lips.

Peter undid Stiles’s pants, popping the button and pulling down the zip, before he pushed them down his legs. That left him only in the satin pants, which were bulging in the front from his chub. Peter smiled at the sight of it. 

"Careful," he said, palming Stiles’s dick and making him moan. "You might ruin these."

"If you keep doing that, I definitely will," Stiles warned him, rocking his hips. But then Peter took his hand away. Stiles whined. "That doesn't mean stop."

Peter chuckled, turning away to open the suit bag. "We have plenty of time for that later," he assured him, pulling out the crisp white shirt.

Peter dressed him methodically, doing up every button with care. He closed the jacket and stood back, a smile coming to his lips. "I might have to get a stick to beat people away with."

Stiles laughed, covering his face with his hands in embarrassment. Peter made him feel giddy, and he still wasn't used to it. 

Peter kissed the back of one of his hands, and Stiles looked at him through his fingers. "My handsome baby boy," he said, voice soft. 

Stiles bit his lip and lowered his hands, nudging Peter’s nose with his own. "My handsome Daddy," he replied, before he gave him a kiss.

Peter returned it gently, before he pulled away to change himself. Stiles watched unashamedly enjoying the show as Peter went from flattering casual clothes to a suit that made him look like James Bond. Was that drool running down Stiles’s chin? Probably.

Stiles bounced his leg on the way to the restaurant, eager and nervous at the same time. This was his first date, technically. It was already perfect, and he had a feeling it would stay that way.

They pulled into the valet lane, and Peter handed over the keys before taking Stiles’s hand. The rest was a swirl of etiquette that had Stiles dizzy. Peter even pulled out his chair for him, and Stiles knew his face was flushed as he grinned.

Why were there three different forks next to his plate?

As he'd thought, the menu was in a language he didn't understand, and this was a classy joint, so there were no pictures either. When Peter asked if he needed some translating, he closed the menu, mind made up. 

"Can you order for me, Daddy?" He batted his eyes.

Peter seemed completely taken. "Of course, pet."

When the server came around, Peter spoke to him in easy French, before he handed the menus over. 

Stiles looked around, checking out all of the fancy dressed people. "I feel like this a scene from Pretty Woman or My Fair Lady," he said, playing with the folded napkin.

"I hardly need to train you to go from rags to riches. You're already quite poised," Peter told him.

Stiles chuckled. "That's the first time that word has been used to describe me. I'm a hyperactive spaz."

"This is also true," Peter said, smiling, and Stiles would have stuck out his tongue if they'd been elsewhere.

The dish that arrived was a lobster split down the middle with a dainty pile of meat in the middle. He tilted his head at it, before he picked up a fork--he went for the middle one--and stabbed a bit of the meat to stick it in his mouth. It melted like butter, and Stiles shivered in pleasure.

“Oh god,” he moaned, eyelids fluttering. “You can order for me anytime.” 

“Glad to see you like it,” Peter said with a smirk, before he dug into his own dish. Steak again, what a carnivore.

After the mains, Peter ordered a dessert of different kinds of chocolate mousses. He fed it to Stiles off a long handled spoon, and Stiles made sure to lick it obscenely at least once. Peter looked at him like he was decadent, so his ploy was a success. 

It was a good date, only made better had they played footsie. Someday. The check arrived and Peter wouldn’t let him look at it. It was probably for the best.

Stiles was feeling pleased and a little drowsy as they exited the restaurant, and he sank down in his seat, allowing the music and the hum of the road under the tires. He could have fallen asleep. but as he was thinking about how much he loved having Peter around, he realized something.

Peter was leaving tomorrow. 

Suddenly Stiles was devastated. He’d spent all his time enjoying Peter’s company that he hadn’t thought about what it be like to not have him around again. He let out a sad little sad.

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked, and Stiles looked over to find him giving him concerned, quick glances before looking back at the road again. 

“You’re going home tomorrow,” Stiles said in a voice that had just a touch of shakiness.

He knew this already. It was the only reality. But he didn’t know how he would be able to go back to doing what he used to instead of holing up with Peter and just kissing and fucking him for hours.

Peter reached over and caught his hand, holding it as he drove. “Don’t worry. We will make plans to see each other again. That’s a promise.”

Stiles swallowed a lump in his throat. “Really?”

“Yes, dear boy,” Peter said, looking at him as they got to another light. “As we said, this is going to last. I won’t let distance keep us apart for long.” 

Stiles smiled at him and leaned over the center console and took Peter’s lips for his own. They didn’t part until someone behind them honked. It made Stiles laugh, which was better than the verge of tears.

They were making out before they even left the elevator of the hotel, and they bumbled down the hall to their room. They looked like a couple of horny teenagers in nice suits. As Peter fumbled a bit to get the keycard out of his pocket, Stiles sucked at his neck, trying to return the favor and mark him up a bit too. When he pulled back, he frowned, because there wasn’t a mark.

“Huh, maybe I’m not doing it right,” he mumbled, narrowing his eyes at Peter’s neck. It wouldn’t be a surprise that there was some trick to leaving a hickey that he didn’t know.

Peter laughed as he got the door open and pushed Stiles through it. “I don’t bruise very easily. I’m not a fair skin moon child like you.” He took Stiles by the hips and steered him toward the bedroom.

Stiles let out a gleeful laugh. “You should see me in the sun. I don’t tan. I just catch fire,” he said, happily going where Peter wanted him. He hated going out in the sun, even though he loved being outdoors with his friends. He always got so sunburned and peeled for days. Then he would be just as pale as before.

Peter snorted and turned Stiles around to push him onto his back on the bed. “I was thinking about having you over the table at the restaurant, you know,” he said, undoing the buttons of Stiles’s jacket and then his vest, revealing the white shirt he’d managed not to spill wine on, thank you very much. 

“Yeah?” Stiles asked, reaching up to catch Peter’s tie, giving it a tug and smiling at the growl Peter let out. “Maybe I should have slid under the table and sucked you off right there.” He blushed as he said, but he was proud of himself for not stuttering. 

That brought a wild grin to Peter’s face, and he took a step back. “Why don’t you do that right now?” he suggested, drawing down his fly and pulling out his thick, half-hard cock.

Stiles slid off the bed and onto his knees, licking his lips and he took that dick in hand and suckled the tip. This was completely new to him, and he hoped he didn’t completely embarrass himself. Peter was a good teacher though, letting him learn things at his own pace, which was, fortunately for them both, _enthusiastic._

Peter tasted a little salty, kind of bitter, but Stiles sucked at him eagerly, wanting to feel him come apart from his mouth alone. He bobbed his head a couple times, testing how far he could take Peter’s dick. He choked a little once, so he pulled back and used his hand to pump the rest as he closed his eyes and concentrated on working what he could.

“God, you are beautiful,” Peter said, sounding a bit strained, and Stiles would have smiled if only his lips weren’t stretched over a dick. 

Stiles opened his eyes and tilted his gaze up, and Peter let out a soft gasp.

“That’s it,” he said in a voice that was more purr than anything. “Look up at me, you gorgeous creature. Your mouth is sinful, and I know I would like fucking it.” He curled his fingers in the hair on the back of Stiles’s head, and Stiles moaned around his dick. “Just like that.”

Stiles began to bob his head faster, getting sloppy with either spit or precome sliding slowly down his chin. He let out a small noise when Peter started to rock his hips, taking his pleasure, and Stiles was all too willing to give it to him. A couple minutes later when Peter pulled Stiles’s head back, Stiles was gasping, his lips swollen and tingling.

“Oh, my sweet boy,” Peter said, giving a tug on Stiles’s hair and getting him to stand. “I’m going to _wreck_ you.” 

“Please, Daddy,” Stiles said, and it sounded like he’d been gargling sand. He licked his lips and went with the motion when Peter pushed him down onto the bed. He toed off his own shoes as Peter undid his pants, tugging them off without bothering to take his shirt, vest or jacket off. Other than that, all he had on were his socks and the satin pair of panties with a growing wet spot on the front. 

Peter smirked and flipped Stiles over, stuffing a pillow under his hips to put his ass on display. He pulled the panties down just enough to reveal his ass, leaving the front folded against his dick. Then Peter got the lube.

He didn’t linger, only stretching Stiles enough so it wouldn’t hurt, but Stiles was still panting by the end of it, wriggling his ass and whining in his throat. He watched over his shoulder as Peter rolled a condom onto his dick, and he nearly told him he didn’t need it. He wanted to have Peter’s load in his ass, to be claimed completely. But they should probably talk about that first.

There was plenty of time.

Peter leaned over him, guiding his cock to Stiles’s hole and slowly pressing inside as Stiles let out a long noise against his arms. Would he ever get used to that feeling? God, he hoped not. It was exquisite. Peter settled against his back, searching out his hands and lacing their fingers. Peter’s weight was as comforting as it was impressive. It made it a little difficult to breathe, but Stiles wouldn’t move for the world. He wanted to be enveloped by everything that Peter was.

After Stiles had gotten used to the sensation and was no long sucking in air like he was dying, Peter started moving, slow but rough, dragging hard against Stiles’s inner walls. He turned his head and looked at Peter breathing heavily against his shoulder. For a moment it looked like Peter’s eyes were glowing an electric blue, but it must have been a trick of the light because it was there one second and gone the next. It probably hadn’t been there at all. Stiles was a bit too deep in pleasure to know what was real.

When Stiles came, ions later, it was with a full body shudder and a soundless cry. He totally ruined the panties, but that was probably the point. He went boneless, letting out a little sound of defeat. Peter kissed his neck and shifted, bracing his hands against the bed and starting to snap his hips against Stiles’s ass. And all Stiles could do was take it, which he did with soft moans and ease.

Peter came deep in Stiles’s ass, his dick twitching so hard Stiles could feel it, and he whimpered at the burst of pleasure up his spine. It was all he could do not to melt when Peter pulled out, letting out a soft sigh. He just laid there as Peter disposed of the condom and padded off in the direction of the bathroom.

He roused a bit when he felt a cloth swipe through the crack of his ass, wiping away extra lube. Then he was rolled onto his black, whining a little. He cracked an eye open and found Peter was naked now. He didn’t help at all as Peter pulled off his clothes, acting much like a balloon filled with gelatin as he was stripped. When all that was left was the panties, Stiles let out a hiss as Peter leaned in and sucked at the wet spot. He felt over stimulated and sensitive.

But Peter didn’t linger, instead tugging the panties down Stiles’s jelly legs and tossing them away. Then he went to shut off the light. When he returned, he pulled Stiles so he was pointed the right direction on the bed and snuggled him, pulling the covers over them both. 

It took a long time before Stiles was able to speak, but he was fighting sleep and trying to reactivate his brain. “How come I’m always… always a blob after sex, and you’re not?” he asked, voice thick with drowsiness. 

“I’m just that good,” Peter informed him, nuzzling his hair. “Go to sleep.”

“Kay,” Stiles said, before he yawned and let sleep pull him under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My babbies.
> 
> Next update by ~~5/24/15~~. **After Memorial Day.** I'm going to be spending the weekend with my family.
> 
> 1/27/17: I just realized nearly two years after writing this chapter that Peter ordered Stiles--a marine biologist in training that used to have a pet lobster named George--a lobster dish on their date. Wow.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took forever. Sorry about that. I'll talk more about that in the end notes. I hope you like it though. This chapter is very silly.

When Stiles woke up the next morning, he was bundled up in the covers and completely comfortable. He blinked open his eyes and was greeted with the sight of the sun streaming in through the drapes. Nope. He rolled over, closing his eyes again, and put his arm out to drape Peter. But he met nothing be mattress. That made Stiles open his eyes again, and he was confused as he sat up and looked around for his Daddy.

"Peter?" 

He couldn't have already left for his plane. His suitcase was still sitting next to the closet. Stiles slid out of bed, fetching a pair of boxers and pulling them on. He went into the living room and saw no sign of the other man. He set his hands on his hips and hummed softly in consideration.

Stiles was thinking about getting dressed when the room door opened, and there was Peter, holding two boxes, stacked, in his hand. He looked surprised to see Stiles up, but his surprise melted into fondness.

"Hello, darling boy," Peter said as he closed the door. "I thought you might sleep longer." He transferred the boxes to his other hand and reached out for Stiles, who went to him immediately. They shared a slow kiss.

Stiles turned his eyes to the boxes. "What did you get?"

"Breakfast," Peter replied, before he pulled Stiles over to the couch. "And a little something extra." He sat down, and Stiles didn’t hesitate to climb into his lap, watching him set aside the smaller box and open the bigger one. There were kolaches, looking greasy and delicious.

Stiles moaned softly when Peter lifted one of the kolaches to his mouth, and Stiles bit into it, the taste of bread, cheese and sausage caressing his tastebuds. "You remembered," he said, cheek bulging a bit.

"Of course," Peter replied with an easy smile.

There had been a conversation not too long ago about breakfast foods. Stiles loved doughnuts and breakfast tacos, but most of all he loved kolaches. It was probably unhealthy. That Peter had remembered and gone out of his way to find some, instead of just getting room service, made Stiles wildly happy, almost giddy.

After they consumed the kolaches, Peter reached for the smaller box, opening it and presenting a cupcake with green frosting, rainbow sprinkles and a little piece of candy that said Happy Birthday.

"It's a day late," Peter said, pulling off the paper. "But you deserve some birthday cake." He held the treat up to Stiles’s mouth.

Stiles giggled and took a bite, sweetness bursting across his tongue. It wasn't teeth curling sweet though, with a moist cake and a fluffy buttercream icing. Stiles ate the cupcake probably faster than he should have, then realized he didn't leave any for Peter.

He blushed and looked ashamed. "Sorry," he said, looking down at his lap.

"Don't be. I'm glad you liked it. Besides, it's not completely gone," Peter said, leaning in and licking at some errant icing at the corner of Stiles’s mouth. "Now it is."

That pulled a giggle out of Stiles.

"Well, time for you to get dressed," Peter said, patting Stiles’s thigh, and Stiles stood up. "And time for me to pack."

Stiles pouted a little but went to do as told, pulling on clean clothes and watching from the bed as Peter repacked his suitcase. Stiles had the petulant urge to dump that suitcase on the floor to get Peter to stay longer. He didn’t, but the thought was there. He wasn’t sure what Peter would do if he gave into his urges anyway.

With all their things in order, they checked out of the hotel and headed back to Stiles’s apartment. Peter held Stiles’s hand the whole way, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. When they got to the apartment, Stiles thought that Peter would come up for a bit, but he stayed by the car as Stiles got his things and the stuff he--well, Peter bought from the store.

"You're going now?" Stiles asked, standing at the base of the stairs and frowning.

"Yes," Peter said, coming closer and taking Stiles’s cheek in hand. "I need to return the car before my flight."

Stiles set down his things and buried himself in Peter's front, wrapping his arms around him. In turn, Peter enveloped him in his embrace, returning the tight hug.

"Thanks for coming to visit me," Stiles said, pulling back a bit so it wouldn't be muffled in Peter's shirt. "I had a lot of fun."

"So did I, pet," Peter told him, lips brushing Stiles’s temple. 

Peter made him feel small and protected, even though he had like two inches on the guy. Stiles had long ago decided he liked it. Curling up against Peter made him feel safe and gooey inside.

"We will see each other again soon," Peter promised, breaking their hug and looking to Stiles again. “And I will miss you everyday until then." 

God, how could he say that so easily? Stiles's face was heating up just hearing it. "Me too," he managed to stammer.

Peter kissed him then, a press of the lips that felt almost sad. He didn’t let the kiss go too far, because he probably knew Stiles would make out with him to get him to stay. He was wise to Stiles’s ways. "Be good, baby," he said in a purr when they parted.

"Yes, Daddy," Stiles replied, nodding his head. His fingers slipped from the jacket Peter was wearing as Peter stepped back more.

It looked like Peter wanted to say something else, a kind of longing in his blue eyes, but he just turned away and got into the car. Stiles stayed where he was as Peter drove off, waving at him, and he didn’t move until he couldn’t see him anymore.

* * *

Stiles didn't mope, not really. He didn’t have the time, because he occupied himself with inhaling the Asian candy Peter bought. The little chocolate mushrooms were tasty. Then he messed around online, catching up with what he missed on Facebook and Tumblr. 

That night, Peter called like he said he would, right after landing and while standing in baggage claim. He sounded drained, and Stiles couldn’t blame him. It had been a seven hour flight.

"Do you work tomorrow?" Stiles asked him, leaning back against his pillows and imagining a tired Peter waiting for his suitcase. He would probably want to slouch, but he wouldn't allow himself.

“No, thankfully,” Peter said with a sigh. Stiles wanted to kiss his face. “I have a day to recuperate. It’s taxing have such a young lover.” There was that teasing tone.

Stiles outright guffawed. “Please, I was the one getting all worn out. Don’t even front.”

Peter chuckled into his ear. “Only because I was trying so hard to wear you out, I assure you. You left me breathless each time.”

Stiles sucked on his bottom lip a second. “I miss you already, you know?” 

“I know,” Peter told him. “I feel the same.” 

Smiling to himself, Stiles snuggled down further into his pillows. "The long distance thing we had before was great, but now that we've been together in person..." He sighed loudly.

"I know, and I agree. But we won't be apart long." It was the same promise as before, and Stiles believed him. "Ah, there's my bag. I'll have to let you go, darling. I'm going to head home and succumb to unconsciousness."

Stiles let out a chuckle. "Okay, Daddy."

* * *

**Catwoman94:** Was it everything you dreamed it could be?

 **The_Stiles:** and more. we spent a lot of time in bed

 **Catwoman94:** Aw yeah get it get it. ;P

 **The_Stiles:** oh I got it alright. many times :D

 **Catwoman94:** I guess I can forgive you not introducing me and Boyd to your Daddy. I can guess that you wanted him all to yourself..

 **The_Stiles:** honestly I was so focused on him that I didn’t even think about it

 **Catwoman94:** I bet. 

**Catwoman94:** There’s a munch in a couple weeks. Wanna go?

 **The_Stiles:** wouldn’t miss it

* * *

It was laundry time, which meant he was out of clean underwear, and the pair of jeans he’d been wearing for two weeks was starting to smell funky. He gathered all of the clothes thrown around his room into a basket, starting toward the laundry room in the basement, when he stopped as he realized something. “Oh, I should…” he mumbled, grabbing his overnight bag and dumping its contents into the basket.

The panties landed on top.

Stiles stared down at them. They looked so innocent in the lighting of his room, but the sight of them made his face flush hot. He picked them up, remembering how Peter had fucked him and made him come inside them. They were a little… _crusty_. And by a little, he meant a lot. Semen did horrible things to fabric.

Could they be washed? He honestly didn’t know. His laundry was lucky to be sorted into lights and darks. He bought cheap detergent too. He didn’t need to, not anymore, but it was habit. Was there special soap for satin? He needed advice.

Thankfully an advice giver was making a smoothie in the kitchen. “Lyyyydiiiaaaa,” he crooned as she sidled up to her. “I need some of your vast knowledge.”

“Do you now?” Lydia asked, adding blueberries and strawberries to the frozen yogurt and ice that was in the blender. She capped it and hit the button.

When it was done whirring, Stiles cleared his throat. “How do you clean satin?” he asked, hoping it didn’t come off as weird that he had such a question.

But Lydia was sharp and narrowed her eyes at him, apparently not about to let him slide. “Satin what exactly?”

Stiles looked down at the floor, shuffling a bit and squeaking his chucks across the tile. “Satin… panties?” He winced a little, daring to look up at her.

Her eyes were a bit wide, and he prepared himself for the questions. He tried to categorize which ones he would answer. But then she just let out an ‘oh!’ and looked back at the blender. “Cold water, delicate cycle,” she said, before she hit the button again.

Stiles stared at her, confused. “That’s it?”

She poured her smoothie in a glass and grabbed a straw. “I figure if you wanted to tell me about all of the raunchy sex you had, you would.” She took a sip, batting her eyes at him. 

He smiled at her. “Tomorrow night, over some Häagen-Dazs?” 

Lydia lips curved up around the straw. “Only if it’s salted caramel.” 

“Of course,” Stiles agreed with a nod, before he headed off to wash his unmentionables.

* * *

Things fell back into normality after a few days of Stiles missing Peter terribly. His sadness was eased by Peter continuing to talk to him everyday, usually well into the night. They tended to sit on Skype for hours, doing their own thing. Stiles got so much studying done listening to Peter breathe and mutter every now and then. 

Thanksgiving came and went. Stiles and his friends spent it in Beacon Hills, a big Stilinski-McCall event full of turkey, pumpkin pie and too much hard cider. Stiles was so hung over the next day that he just stayed in bed, hiding under the covers, and begged Peter to kill him over text. The screen was far too bright, making him squint in displeasure. Peter declined to be his executioner. 

Stiles was hoping that he’d see Peter around Christmas, but Peter told him that this was a popular time for snow based photoshoots, and he was off to Vermont. Stiles moaned annoyingly for a bit, before he told Peter to bundle up and drink lots of hot cocoa. If Peter got sick and Stiles wasn’t there to take care of him, there would be hell to pay. Peter laughed and said he had thick skin. It would take a lot to get him sick.

On Christmas morning, Stiles and Scott raced down stairs, their bare feet thudding against the hardwood. They laughed as they shoved at each other, both of them trying to be first. When they crashed into a wall, Stiles’s dad mildly called out for them to be careful. 

When they burst into the living room, they went right for the tree, but Melissa told them that there were pancakes. If the boys didn’t eat, there would be no presents. Stiles and Scott had never eaten so fast in their lives. After they were done, they went back into the living room, and Isaac was coming down the stairs, looking sleepy as he rubbed his eyes with his sleeve. This was the guy that had all afternoon classes. He usually slept until one in the afternoon.

Scott practically cooed as he went over to his boyfriend and smooched his face. Stiles made fake gagging noises, but honestly he wished he could do that with Peter. He almost ached every time he thought about him. 

Scott and Stiles started tearing into gifts as everyone else ate their pancakes. Stiles knew he had six presents--he’d counted the night before. He got socks and a Visa gift card from his dad, which made him snort. Melissa bought him some Microsoft points, which he could always use. Scott got him a few things, and they were all great. All and all, it was a nice Christmas. 

“Okay, I’m going back to sleep,” Stiles said with a laugh, holding all of his booty in his arms. He started toward the stairs when his father let out an ‘oh!’ and waved a hand at him, before getting up.

“One more thing,” John said, walking over to the closet under the stairs and pulling out a silver wrapped gift. “He asked me to give this too you last.”

Stiles looked at the box, before he just dumped all his stuff on the floor. (None of it was breakable.) He took the box and opened the little folding tag. ‘To Stiles’ it said, ‘From Peter.’ He stared at that a moment, before he narrowed his eyes at his father.

“Have you guys been conspiring behind my back?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the couch and glaring at his father. “Is that what this is?”

John laughed and shrugged. “That boyfriend of yours is sneaky.” He sat back down in the armchair. 

Stiles harrumphed, before he tore into the wrapping paper like a monster. When he got the box uncovered, he gasped so loud and dramatically, you’d think he was dying.

“What?” Scott asked from his spotted where he was cuddled up against Isaac, who was ignoring them in favor of playing his new Professor Layton game on his 3DS. “What is it?”

Stiles turned the box toward everyone, his eyes bugging out.

“Is that a _laptop?_?” Scott asked. 

“It’s not just a laptop,” Stiles said, his voice like a hiss. “It is an Asus ROG. It’s the best gaming laptop on the market.” He let out a squeak and held the box to his chest. He was beyond happy. His old laptop had been giving him trouble, but he only told Peter that once. “I need to go call him,” he announced, before he bounded up the stairs and to his room with his bounty, giggles of amusement following him.

Stiles set all of his things on the bed and grabbed his phone, flopping down on his back with a bounce. He hit the call button after getting to Peter’s contact info. He turned on his side and fingered the laptop box as the phone rang. 

“Hello?” Peter answered.

“You got me a laptop!” Stiles blurted out at him huffily. 

Peter laughed, and the sound was like melting chocolate. “Merry Christmas to you too.”

Stiles made an incoherent noise purely of vowels. It sounded like a war cry. “But--but!”

“You said your computer was giving you trouble,” Peter said easily. “And you were always complaining that your system wouldn’t run games in the highest capacity. My niece says it’s the best gaming laptop you can buy.” 

Stiles pulled the laptop closer and hugged it. “But it’s so expensive,” he said in an urgent little whisper.

The smile was obvious in Peter’s voice as he said, “And? You deserve it. And I knew that you wouldn’t spend that much on one thing with your allowance, so I did it for you.”

“I didn’t get you anything,” Stiles said with a pout. He hadn’t had any idea what he could possibly get the man. And any present he’d bought would be with the man’s money, technically, and that seemed kind of… trashy.

“Your existence is a gift,” Peter said, like he didn’t even have to think about it.

“Pff,” Stiles replied with a roll of his eyes. “You’re so corny.”

“I’m not kidding,” Peter said to him, still sounding amused, but fondly so. “I have never had anyone like you in my life. No one has stayed up with me to all hours talking. Or not talking, it doesn’t matter. I love to listen to you breathe or mutter about what you’re studying. It feels like I’m there, sitting with you on your bed, surrounded by textbooks and papers.

I’ve never had someone that smiles every time they say hello to me. It makes me want to reach out and touch your face, to feel the subtle lines and caress your cheek. Or, better yet, it makes me want to get my camera, that way I can immortalize you. I’ll have to do that next time we see each other.”

“I could always send you Snapchats,” Stiles suggested, smiling as hard as he could. Peter made his insides feel like goo and butterflies all at once.

“I have no idea what that is,” Peter said with a chuckle. “But I’m all for it if it means I get to see your lovely face.”

Stiles took a moment to explain to Peter was Snapchat was, before he directed him to the app. Once Peter had it downloaded, Stiles sat up on his bed and pulled the laptop to his chest, hugging it. He held his phone out and grinned at it with a thumbs up. He looked at the result and grunted, taking another without the thumbs up this time. Once he was satisfied, he added the comment ‘Who’s got the best Daddy ever? Me.’

It took a few minutes for Peter to send him a chat back, and when it did it was of himself sitting in a plush looking arm chair, looking cozy with a turtleneck sweater. ‘Missing my baby’ it said, and Stiles sighed softly, continuing to smile. 

He had a feeling this was the beginning of something truly great.

* * *

Given the power of Snapchat, Peter became the most ridiculous forty-three old man on the planet. Every morning when Stiles woke up, he had a chat from his Daddy. They started out simple, like just his face smooshed in the pillow with the words ‘It’s too early to be an adult.’ Fuck, was he handsome first thing in the morning, with his normally well kept hair sticking in all directions and his jaw darkened with the beginnings of stubble, not yet groomed down to the goatee.

Peter sent him a picture of the New York skyline, saying ‘Tried to take a picture of the rainbow.’ There was second picture of Peter’s face, frowning in an exaggerated manner, ‘Phone too low quality.’ Then there was a final third picture of a smoking skillet with browned contents, ‘And I burned my eggs.’

One time Peter sent him a picture of a food cupboard, all clean and organized. ‘Was cleaning out my cabinet,’ it said. The next picture was of Peter’s hand holding a can of SpaghettiOs. ‘No idea where this came from.’ Then the underside of the can. ‘It expired two years ago.’ Then a shot of Peter’s face, looking intrigued. ‘Kind of want to eat it.’ Stiles made sure to call Peter and tell him ‘You better not!’, and Peter laughed as he threw the can away. 

Stiles gave as good as he got too, making sure that he snapped with Peter a few times a day. Once he went to Starbucks and sighed at the name on his cup. ‘Styles.’ He took a picture of it with the words ‘oh no i’m in a boy band’. He took a picture of himself in his sunglasses and his cup, ‘too famous for you’. Peter replied with a picture of himself in his own rose tinted sunglasses, a smirk on his face with the city behind him, and he said ‘You may be famous but I’m classy’. Stiles knew when he was one upped, so he conceded to the king.

Otherwise it was boring things like pictures of his school work with phrases like ‘ugh kill me’ or ‘what did I do to deserve this’. Once he just shoved his face into his papers with a ‘waaaaaaah’ and made sure to include a few crying faces. 

That was like letting the beast out. Because once Peter discovered the emojis, he was determined to use _all_ of them. Stiles could only sit back and take it as he was sent snap after snap of things with emojis. Like, a picture of people in the park with running emojis or bicycles. 

Once Peter sent him a snap of a stray cat, Peter’s hand on its head, with every cat emoji available. You’d think Peter had been given a new toy and was trying to wear it out. Stiles could only be charmed though, even when Peter sent him a snap of his aggravated face with the workings of a photoshoot in the background and the words ‘This is a pile of’ and the poo emoji. Peter was ten years old, Stiles swore, but Stiles made sure to send him a pouting face with the words ‘i’m sorry Daddy’ and a kiss mark.

It was all fairly innocent until Peter sent him a snap one night. Stiles looked away from his laptop, a pen in his mouth because he was taking notes about bioluminescence, and grabbed his phone. His pen fell out of his mouth at what he saw. It was the front of Peter’s boxers, his thick hand holding his dick through the fabric. He was hard, and there was a little wet spot of precome. ‘Thinking of you.’

Stiles let out a shaky breath, his dick stirring in his pajama pants. He told it to stop, because he had to get these flash cards done. He took a snap of his laptop, two open books and the papers littering his bed. 'I'm busy being responsible'. He went back to work, trying and failing not to think about his Daddy pleasuring himself.

His phone trilled again, and Stiles should have just let it go, but after thirty seconds of trying to concentrate he grabbed his phone to look at the snap Peter sent him. "Oh my god," he whispered, licking his lips at the sight of Peter’s hand buried into his boxers, gripping himself, with the head of his fat, uncut cock peeking over the waistband. 'Am I distracting you?' was the message.

Stiles made a disapproving sound, even though his body approved greatly and started to get warmer. This wasn't fair. He'd been trained like a Pavlovian experiment to react like this to his Daddy. He always got hard as his ass felt empty. Not bothering to take a snap of his pout, he shot off a text to the man.

To Peter: 8:46pm  
Yes you're distracting me quit it!

Stiles honestly thought about shutting off his phone, about ignoring Peter and getting his work done. But he knew he wouldn't be able to. He sighed in a defeated manner when a new snap arrived. It was of Peter pushing the waist of his boxers down to show off his hairy balls and his cock curving up. 'I'm not doing anything' it said.

Even though he was already too far gone and knew he wouldn't be able to get any work done, Stiles sent off a petulant text out of pride.

To Peter: 8:52pm  
Are too.

To that, Peter responded with a close up shot of the head of his dick, precome oozing over his fingers. 'Ignore me if you really want to'.

Well, that was all Stiles could handle before he had to palm himself through his flannel pants. "Not fair," he whispered, his dick twitching. He licked his lips, before he looked around at all his stuff. He set down his phone and gathered up his papers and books, taking them and his laptop over to the desk. It could wait. He stripped down to his boxers, a stirring already starting in his cock, and laid down on the bed. He stroked himself through the fabric of his underwear until he was tenting them. Then he took a picture with the words 'look what you did’. 

Almost immediately, his phone began to ring, and Stiles fumbled with it a little, Peter’s ringtone playing through almost the whole thing, before he hit the button to answer it and put it to his ear. “Hello?” he said, sounding a bit shaky. 

“Hello, my dirty boy,” Peter purred in his ear, and Stiles could feel goosebumps raise on his arms. “I see you have yourself a problem there. Would you like me to help you with it?”

Stiles let out a whimper. Peter’s voice did all kinds of things to him when he used it like that. “Yes, Daddy, please,” he said, before he bit his lip and squeezed the base of his cock.

Peter hummed in his ear. "Take off your boxers and get that cock of yours out, pet."

Stiles did as told, kicking off his underwear and taking himself in hand. He felt so hard and hot, and it was all Peter’s fault. He leaned back against the pillows and closed his eyes so he could focus on just Peter’s voice telling him to stroke his dick, not too fast. Peter wanted him to last for a bit before he came all over himself. 

“Can you finger your pretty hole for me?” Peter murmured to him.

Stiles made a whining sound. He’d been close, and now Peter wanted him to be coordinated? That was just rude. He took his hand away from his dick and reached over to fumble through his nightstand drawer for the lube. He slicked up his fingers reaching between his legs and below his balls to press two fingers inside himself, impatient. He gasped at the burn and the stretch, dropping his head back.

“Slow, pet,” Peter said in his ear, and Stiles whimpered. “Put me on speaker so you can use both of your hands. I know you want to get off.”

Stiles hit the speaker button with a shaking thumb, before he laid the phone on his pillow. “Can I come, Daddy?” he asked, pressing his fingers in and out of himself with wet noises and stroking his cock. He twisted his fist at the head, his hips jerking.

“Soon, sweetheart. Be a good boy and hold back for me,” Peter said, and Stiles let out a little noise of desperation. “I thought about you all day, Stiles. Once I had you in my mind, I couldn’t think of anything else. It was very distracting having your tight body and plush lips on the brain when I was trying to photograph prissy models.”

Stiles let out a giggle despite himself, but it quickly became a moan when he managed to brush over his prostate. It felt so good. (Not as good as it did before he discovered the feeling of Peter’s dick, but still good.) He tried to angle his hand to catch that spot again, but it was difficult with his wrist bent and his fingers straining like this. He made a frustrated sound.

“What has you upset, dear boy?” Peter asked him, a smile in his voice. He was obviously enjoying Stiles’s torment, because he was a right asshole. 

Stiles adored him anyway.

“It’s better when you do it,” Stiles complained with a pout. Even though Peter couldn’t see, he stuck out his bottom lip. He pushed his feet against the bed and lifted his hips, trying to fuck himself on his fingers more efficiently. 

“Oh?” Peter asked mildly, and Stiles would have bit him if they were in the same space. He always sounded so calm when Stiles was on the verge to falling apart. “Do you want me to finger you, hm? Want me to stretch you open wide and stroke you inside?”

“Yes,” Stiles whimpered with a shudder, a blast of pleasure racing through him at Peter’s words. “Please.” 

“I would, were I there,” Peter told him, his voice a bit rough, and there was the faint sound of skin against skin. 

Stiles arched, closing his eyes and imagining the way Peter fucked into his own fist. His dick twitched in sincere interest. It was most intense when he imagined Peter prepping him, working him up to three fingers and waiting until he was shaking to thrust that cock deep inside him. 

Whining, stiles caught a few breaths. “Can I come, Daddy? I need--need it!”

Peter growled in his ear, and _fuck_ it was hot. “How badly do you need it, baby? Ask Daddy nicely and I’ll reward you.” 

“Please!” Stiles gasped immediately, so close. He was teetering on the edge of climax, but he needed permission first. He craved it. “Please, Daddy, let me come. I’ve been good, please. Please!”

“Such a sweet beggar you are, dearest,” Peter said, and he was definitely smirking. Stiles could hear the smugness in his voice. “Go ahead, sweet thing. Come for Daddy.” 

Pleasure exploded through Stiles, and he bit his lips together to keep his cry in, instead just let out a low moan as he splattered all over his stomach. It was definitely good that he’d moved his stuff. Come covered flashcards would be impossible to salvage.

“I miss the way you sound when you’re uninhibited,” Peter said, his voice a bit rough. “When I have you again, I’m going to make you scream yourself hoarse. Would you like that, dear boy? Do you want me to wear you out so all there is to you is bliss?”

Stiles could only moan in response, his body a bit like a wet noodle. “Yeah,” he breathed out.

“When I see you next, that’s what I’ll do,” Peter told him, and it was a promise that made Stiles’s dick twitch valiantly. Then Peter gasped, a soft sound to signal his own orgasm. 

Someday, Stiles wanted to ride Peter until he was the one that was crying out.

“Mm,” Peter sighed out. “Well, that was satisfying. I may have to bother you while you’re doing your homework more often.”

“When I fail all my classes and have to drop out of school, I’ll be your kept boy, and you can tend to my every need and take care of me,” Stiles said with a grin.

“Gladly.”

* * *

New Year's kind of snuck up on Stiles. He was so busy catching up on work he failed to do over winter, and suddenly the next day was January. Lydia announced it was time for them to bar and club hop all night long like the young, carefree people they were. Stiles was into the idea, but then Lydia said they should all put their phones on silent so that could have the most amount of phone without being disturbed. 

Stiles frowned as everyone around him agreed. But they had something he didn’t, which was a significant other to engage themselves with when. Stiles was flying solo. His lover was far, far away.

Scott seemed to see his hesitation and nudged Stiles’s shoulder with his own. “I promise not to abandon you tonight, bro.”

Stiles smiled, bumping Scott’s shoulder with his cheek. “Thanks, man. I’ll go put on something other than jammies.” He walked off as Lydia was saying she could fix Allison’s hair, pulling out his phone.

To Peter: 7:35pm  
Hey just wanted to let you know that I’ll be MIA tonight.

To Peter: 7:36pm  
We’re going out on the town and our phones will be on silent.

Stiles shrugged out of his sleep clothes and tried to find something reasonably clean to wear. As he was doing up his pants and snapping his Flash belt in place, his phone sand out Peter’s message tone. He padded over to his bed with bare feet and picked up his phone.

From Peter: 7:38pm  
_No worries, darling. I’m going out on the town with some friends too. I hope you have fun._

Stiles smiled to himself. 

To Peter: 7:40pm  
You too. <3

Stiles did have quite a bit of fun. They went to a bar first and ordered three pitchers of beer and a hundred buffalo wings to share. When they got sake bombs, Allison won the chugging competition and laughed so hard she got the hiccups. Isaac tried to challenge Stiles to a game of darts with twenty bucks on the line, but Stiles just hissed at him. He remembered last year when Isaac had wiped the floor with him.

“Hustle someone else, blondie,” Stiles said, before he smiled at his own words. He was five beers in and definitely feeling it. Isaac just rolled his eyes at him and went back to leaning against Scott.

After the bar, they were all very buzzed, so they caught a cab, one big enough for all of them, and went to a club called Cindy’s. There they drank some more and danced. Stiles’s move became a lot more _loose_ when he was intoxicated, more flailing than organized movement. 

At one point he somehow started dancing with a dude. They had been facing each other, and Stiles must have given some kind of signal, because they guy swooped forward and had his hands on Stiles’s pumping hips in no time. Stiles laughed and turned, pressing back against him. For two songs they swayed, before needed to get a drink. He practically yelled that he was going to the bar to his dance companion, who nodded and let go of him.

Stiles pressed through the throng of moving bodies to the bar, leaning into it. “Can I get a rum and Coke, please?” he asked the bartender, before he slid onto the stool.

“So I’ve never seen you here before,” came a voice to his immediate left, and Stiles nearly fell off the stool in shock. He looked over with wide eyes and found the guy he’d been dancing with. The guy gave him a smile. 

“Uh, yeah, I don’t really go to clubs often,” Stiles said, rubbing the back of his neck. “This is a special occasion.” 

The dude nodded. “I’m Alex,” he said, offering his hand.

“Stiles.” He took Alex’s hand and gave it a shake. 

“Are you here with anyone?” Alex asked, still staying close enough that Stiles could smell his pleasant cologne. 

“Just my friends,” Stiles answered, before he picked up his rum and Coke as it was delivered.

Alex leaned in. “Wanna ditch them and come home with me so I can ring in the new year between your legs?”

Stiles choked on his drink, almost spewing it all over Alex. He coughed into his hand and sucked in some air. “Well that was blunt,” he gasped with a strained voice.

Alex just smiled at him. “I’m not afraid to ask for what I want.”

Stiles blushed and looked down at his drink. Shit, had he given Alex the wrong impression by dancing with him? “I, uh, I can’t,” he said, and Alex lifted a brow at him. “I have a boyfriend.”

“Why isn’t he here with you?” Alex asked, and he didn’t sound offended.

“He lives in New York.”

Alex’s eyes widened for a second, before he blew out a breath. “Well, that sounded complicated, and I’m not looking for complicated. Want to keep dancing anyway?”

“Sure,” Stiles said with a grin. Dancing was fun.

At fifteen seconds to midnight, the music cut off and everyone started to count. Stiles shouted along with everyone else, laughing, because he was totally drunk. He and Alex were using each other to stand. “Happy New Year!” everyone screamed at midnight as streamers and glitter cascaded onto the crowd. Alex kissed his cheek and bid him a goodnight.

It was two in the morning when Stiles finally got home, and he was so exhausted he didn’t bother to shower or even take off his clothes before he flopped into bed. He slept for a straight ten hours, before he woke up and groaned. He felt all itchy from glitter and the drink he’d spilled on himself when Alex had stumbled into him. They’d laughed uncontrollably afterward. 

Stiles was a bit sad that he hadn’t gotten Alex info. He seemed like a cool dude to hang with. When he was undressing to get into the shower, he found a crumpled piece of paper in his pocket. ‘Alex Shu,’ it said, along with a number. Stiles laughed and put it on his nightstand. 

Fresh out of the shower and feeling much more human, Stiles went to his phone to input Alex’s number. Before he could, he realized he had a voicemail. From Peter. He grinned as he hit a button to play it and put his phone to his ear.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Peter said, speaking a bit loudly with static in the background. “I bet you can hear all the noise around me. I’m in Time Square, about to watch the ball drop, and I’m surrounded by loud couples being gross. It’s too bad you’re not here so I could be gross with you. The last time I kissed someone at midnight on New Year’s was when I was in high school. I wish you were here or I was there, whichever. Anyway, you’re probably out having fun with your friends, so I’ll stop filling up your voicemail box with my pathetic whining.” There was the sound of people counting down in the background, before the noise erupted into cheers. “Happy New Year’s, pet.”

Stiles’s face was hurting by the time the message ended. He wondered when Peter would stop making him feel giddy. He hoped it was never.

* * *

“How many action figures are you going to buy?” 

“All of them.”

Scott laughed at that. 

It was late January, and they had driven to San Diego for Comic-Con. They’d started to drive at five in the morning, neither of them very awake, but that was what Starbucks was for. All the way there, they’d chatted about what they wanted to do. There were some panels that had to see. They were going take so many pictures of cosplayers. 

Stiles had withdrawn a lot of money to spend, because it there was any time to splurge, it was at a comic convention. He was uncomfortable carrying so much money, and he hoped he didn’t get robbed. He’d cry.

The hotel Peter booked for them was the Hilton, and Stiles felt distinctly less classy than he should have been in order to stay there. He walked up to the check-in and said they had a reservation under Peter Hale. 

“Okay, you have two rooms,” the woman there said, handing them two keys.

“Two?” Scott asked as they went toward the elevators.

Stiles shrugged. “Maybe Peter wanted to give us privacy.”

When they reached the rooms, which were right next to each other, Stiles opened the first one and pushed the door in. Then he froze, his eyes going wide.

Sitting at a table by the window, looking huggable in a soft sweater and socked feet, was Peter. He smiled as he looked over, before he stood.

Scott looked over Stiles’s shoulder and sighed. “Now I get why we need privacy.”

Peter chuckled and just opened his arms.

Stiles ran to him like a touch-starved puppy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Comic-Con is in July, but I dooon't caaaare.
> 
> So, I didn't have any writer's block or anything like that. I just started playing World of Warcraft again. I'm a bad person. But it's good, because playing makes me happy. I think I'm going to give up the deadlines, because they stress me out. I'll write when I feel inspired. I'll still be posting regularly, but not by any given time. I hope you'll understand. 
> 
> i'll admit now, I've never been to a comic convention. If you have any whacky stories, share! :D
> 
> Soon, Peter will tell Stiles a secret.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this took forever. I got really geeky too, and I hope you don't mind.

There wasn't a word to describe how Stiles was feeling right then. Euphoric was close. But, if anyone asked how Stiles being back in Peter's arms was, he would have just sighed and nuzzled further into his Daddy’s neck.

"It's good to see you too, kitten," Peter said in his ear, running his hands along Stiles’s back.

There was a clearing of a throat behind him, and Stiles looked back to see Scott standing awkwardly near the door. Honestly, Stiles had forgotten he was there. Stiles blinked at him, asking with his face why Scott was interrupting the moment.

"Can I have the other room key?" Scott asked, looking embarrassed. "As much as I want to see you guys eat each other's faces, I would rather put my stuff down."

Stiles dug the other key card out of his pocket and handed it over to his friend. Scott took it and left the room, shutting the door behind him. Stiles turned back to Peter and rubbed his face against his neck. "I'm so happy to see you," he said, grasping the hem of Peter's sweater in his fingers. "I wish you would have told me you were coming to the con. We could have done a couple's cosplay." He lifted his head with a gasp. "We could have done Spideypool!"

That would have been awesome. They could have walked around holding hands and smooching. It was totally canon, really. And Stiles would have gotten to see Peter’s butt in a tight pair of red and black pants. Stiles saw no downside to this.

Peter chuckled and ran his fingers through Stiles’s hair. "I'm actually not going to the con," he said, and Stiles’s face fell, so Peter gave him a quick kiss. "I'm doing a photoshoot about an hour away from here. When I saw that I could be in San Diego at the same time you were, I jumped at the chance."

"Oh," Stiles said.

"I'll see you each night," Peter was quick to say. "I'm eager to hear about all the fun you will have." It must have been obvious that Stiles was trying not to pout, because Peter bumped their noses together. "You have Scott to go with you. He'll be able to appreciate the convention more than I would. For instance, I have no idea what Spideypool is."

Stiles smiled despite himself. "Spider-Man and Deadpool," he said, stepping back and realizing he'd dropped his bag by the door. He grabbed it and set it on the bed. He smiled as Peter came up behind him, nuzzling the back of his neck. "What time will you be around at night?" Stiles asked, letting his eyes flutter shut.

"By nine, most likely," Peter replied, moving to sit next to Stiles’s bag, and Stiles looked at him. "Hopefully the shoots won't run long. I can only handle models acting like divas for so long before I want to push them out of windows."

Stiles laughed, imagining Peter standing next to an open window like 'I dunno what happened' with a shrug. "Try not to turn to homicide. I don't want our sex life to be reduced to conjugal visits," Stiles said as he took off his shirts and opened his bag to put on the one he planned on wearing. He pulled it on and smoothed the front.

Peter took it in. "Star Wars, right?" he asked, touching the design.

Stiles grinned and nodded. "Yeah, it's the Empire symbol. Scott has one of the Rebel Alliance."

"Matching shirts, how adorable," Peter said with a smile.

"Yeah, people will think we're a couple. It was Scott’s idea. I finally got him to watch the original trilogy, and he's obsessed. I had to talk him out of buying a lightsaber, because he would just break it..."

Stiles went on talking about how Scott had spoken like Yoda for so long that it had stopped being cute. He kept air kissing at Allison and Isaac, calling it a force smooch. That was kind of precious. At one point Scott had rushed into his room, wild eyed, to tell him there was a lightsaber academy in Italy, and they needed to go.

While Peter was chuckling at that, there was a knock on the door. Stiles went over and opened it, finding an eager looking Scott in his Star Wars shirt.

"You guys ready to go?" he asked, looking between them.

"Peter’s not going," Stiles said, and Scott blinked at him. "He's actually working. It'll just be us two at the con." At that, Scott blinked again and smiled. Stiles gave him a flat look. "Try to look less relieved."

Scott had the decency to look ashamed, looking down at his feet as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry, I was just really looking forward to hanging with me best bro, y'know?"

Stiles smiled as Peter let out an 'aw' behind him. He playfully punched Scott’s shoulder. "I know. Let's go." He grabbed his pass, gave Peter a kiss, then headed out, excited for what was in store.

* * *

"Jesus, this place is crowded," Stiles says after they'd had their VIP badges checked and were inside the convention building. There were Narutos everywhere, just a sea of orange, even though it was a comic con and not an anime con. There were also three Batmans (Batmen?) right in the front of lobby, sizing each other up like they were going to duke it out and declare a Batking.

"Next time, we should dress up as Batman and Robin," Stiles told Scott, jittery with excitement.

"You're a bit tall to be Boy Wonder," Scott replied, and Stiles looked at him to find him grinning.

"Who said--I am not your plucky sidekick," Stiles said, giving his friend a shove as they passed by a group of girls bouncing along to Caramelldansen. "You would totally be Robin."

"Yeah, no," Scott replied, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking around excitedly. "Next time you can be Spider-Man and I'll be Wolverine."

"Classic yellow and blue Wolverine or Hugh Jackman Wolverine?" Stiles asked, before he jumped to the side as a little girl dressed as a blue pixie nearly ran into his legs, as a man dressed as Link (that was probably her father) chased after her.

“I don’t know if I can pull off the blue and yellow,” Scott said with a shrug.

“I believe in you,” Stiles told him with a nudge.

Scott let out a little ‘aw’ and bumped their shoulders together, smiling a little.

Stiles stopped by some signs, checking out where everything was. “Okay, so, apparently the food court and panels are downstairs and the booths are upstairs.” He looked at Scott and lifted his brows. “I guess we go upstairs?” He shrugged. “And bury ourselves in merch.”

“You can bury yourself,” Scott said as they walked toward the elevators. “I’m limited to, like, three things? Or one big thing.” Confusion crossed his features as they walked by a group cosplaying with grey faces and candy corn horns. Once they were a bit away, Stiles looked at Scott, who was leaning toward him. “Who are they dressed up as?”

Stiles glanced back at the group. “Homestuck,” he said.

“What’s that?” Scott asked, narrowing his eyes a little.

Humming in consideration, Stiles thought about it a second. “Gray zodiac troll people,” he replied finally as they came to stop in front of the elevators. Scott just stared at him, so he shrugged. “Or something. It’s a webcomic.”

“Huh,” Scott said. “They look pretty cool. I might look that up.”

Stiles pushed the Up button for the elevator, just imagining Scott falling head first into the Homestuck fandom like so many people on his Tumblr dash. He didn’t even know what people in the Homestuck fandom were called. Homers? Stuckies? (No, Stucky was something else entirely.) 

He tried to give it a bit more thought, but then some music started up, and Stiles frowned. He couldn’t make it out, but it was getting closer. It was coming from behind the elevator doors. It took a few more moments, then the doors opened and Stiles recognized the music. 

“I just wanna tell you how I’m feeling,” sang three guys with a boombox, sunglasses and brown dusters. “Gotta make you understand.”

Scott groaned as Stiles leapt into the elevator, joining in on the singing. “Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down. Never gonna run around and desert you.” Scott squeezed into the elevator right as the doors were closing, looking like he was developing a headache. Stiles just kept on singing, harmonizing pretty well with these strangers. “Never gonna make you cry, never gonna say goodbye. Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you!”

On the second floor of the convention hall, Stiles felt his breath seize for a second. There were _so many people_. It took him a moment for his easily rattled brain to calm down, and it only did because fingers wrapped around his wrists and squeezed. Stiles looked at Scott, who gave him a nod and squeezed again. Stiles gave him a smile, letting out a shaky breath. He moved forward, and they didn’t mention it further.

They ended up at a booth that was covered in boxes of comics, mostly because Stiles couldn’t help himself around comics. He needed all of them. He made a beeline for them, and Scott could do little more than follow. It was probably going to be like that the whole weekend. Scott seemed just fine with trailing along behind Stiles as he bounced around with excitement.

Story of their lives, really.

After a while of silent searching, Scott spoke up. “Find anything good?”

Stiles glanced at him, noticing he had an issue of the first run of the Runaways. The cover was Gert hugging her dino buddy, Old Lace. (Stiles still wasn’t over it.) He looked down at the pile he was making. “Like a whole Batgirl run,” he said, starting to sift again.

“Babs?” Scott asked, leaning over to check out Stiles’s stack. 

“Cass,” Stiles said, laying another comic on the pile.

“Oh.” Scott went back to his own search.

There was something about that little ‘oh’ that had Stiles looking to his friend, his eyes narrowing a bit. “What?” he asked slowly.

Scott’s eyes flicked toward him, before that went back to the comic fiddling. “Babs is better,” he said, quiet.

Stiles’s nostrils flared with the offended inhale. “You best not be dissin' Cassandra Cain,” he said in his best catty _Oh no he didn’t_ voice..

Lifting one shoulder and hiding part of his face. “I’m not. I like her too, but you can’t quite beat the original Batgirl.” He turned his innocent, honest face on Stiles, taking the wind right out of his sails.

Stiles sagged a bit. “Okay. Barbara is cool. She’s badass as Oracle. That retcon was bullshit.”

“That we can agree on,” Scott said, grinning like the easily pleased golden retriever he was.

Stiles gave a fond roll of his eyes. 

“I’d love to see your guys’ discussion on who the best Green Lantern is,” the person running the booth said. She popped her gum and smiled at them.

“Guy Gardner,” Scott said with a sagely nod.

Stiles gave him a flat look. “You’re dead to me.”

“You two are super cute,” the owner of the booth said, chuckling. She leaned over and picked up something, lifting it up to show Stiles and Scott. It was a beautiful Oracle statuette featuring Babs in her wheelchair with computer screens as her back drop.

Scott whimpered. “How much is that?” When told the price, his face fell. “Oh.”

Stiles wasn’t about to let his best friend be sad, so he pulled out his wallet and handed a few bills to the booth owner. Then, he handed the figure over to Scott once it was in a bag. Scott gave him wide eyes. “What, you thought I was just going to spend money on myself?”

Pulling the bag to his chest, Scott seemed to fight a smile for a moment before it broke out across his face. “Okay, but just this once.”

“Uh huh,” Stiles said as the booth owner ‘aww’d. He turned to her and bought the comics he’d picked out too. He wasn’t concerned that she seemed to think they were boyfriends. People had been assuming that since middle school.

Stiles and Scott bounced from booth to booth, acquiring things that they certainly didn’t need, but wanting was enough. It felt nice to splurge on things. Stiles had never been able to do it before. He bought some more things for Scott when his friend wasn’t looking, determined to spoil him. He deserved it.

About halfway through the day, they went back to the hotel rooms to unburden themselves. Peter wasn’t in the room when Stiles got there, and Stiles couldn’t wait to see him that night. He was going to pounce the man and do wicked things to him, with him. He was pretty sure that Peter wouldn’t mind.

When they got back to the convention hall, they headed to the food area to seek out sustenance. They bought some questionable food: runny chili cheese fries for Stiles and an amazingly greasy burger for Scott. There were no empty tables, so they sat on a low wall surrounding a fountain in the middle of the food court.

“We’re probably going to get the shits,” Stiles said as he stabbed his fork into the fries and shoveled a few into his mouth.

“Here’s hoping Peter thinks diarrhea is sexy,” Scott replied, biting into his burger.

Stiles had to laugh, briefly entertaining the idea of snapping a picture of him and his fries and sending it to Peter, but he didn’t want to bother him while he was working. Instead he just kept eating. The food was pretty tasty, if probably wrought with dangerous bacteria. 

They sat in silence for a while, just looking around as they ate. Them Stiles gestured to someone cosplaying as Captain America, probably one of many. "That's a good Cap."

"Yeah," Scott said in agreement around a mouthful of burger. He swallowed and nodded in another direction. "There's a good Superman over there."

As they ate, they commented on the costumes around them. There were two Princess Leias that seemed to be becoming fast friends. There was a dude Deadpool and a lady Deadpool, sitting together with their masks pushed up to reveal their mouths so they could eat. There were three Doctors, two Elevens and one Ten, eating pizza. A Nine joined them eventually.

A woman passed by Stiles and Scott, wearing a biomechanical bikini and a gauntlet that went most of the way up her arm. Stiles and Scott were a bit stunned by a show of so much skin. But she was rocking the hell out of it.

"Witchblade, right?" Scott asked as they stared after her.

"Yeah," Stiles replied with a nod. Now he wished he'd been taking pictures.

After they finished their food, neither of them felt like they were going to explode, so they went back upstairs where the booths were. This time they went to Artist's Alley. There were some pretty damn amazing fanartists there, offering drawings they had already finished or ones they could do on the spot. Stiles bought few cute charms of X-Men characters for Allison and Lydia, a portrait of the Silver Surfer for Jordan and, with Scott’s advice, an art nouveau piece of Zoë Washburn.

It was getting pretty late, so Stiles and Scott decided to head back to the hotel. They were both pretty tired, but their weariness fell away when they passed by a room with several people playing and watching a game.

"Oh my God," Scott breathed out.

"DDR," Stiles said, grinning and heading into the room with Scott at his side.

It took a while for it to be their turn, but Stiles was more than happy to watch others dance first. And by the smile Scott had on his face, he did too. When they stepped up onto the dance platforms, Stiles felt some serious déjà vu. It was like he was twelve again, wasting the day at the mall's arcade. DDR and Mortal Combat had been his life.

"It'd been such a long time since we've done this," Stiles said as he hesitated at picking the difficulty.

"You could pick easy," said a girl dressed like Lara Croft. It was her system they were all playing on. "No one would judge you." Then she smiled. "Much."

Stiles huffed and went with medium, and Scott followed suit. Immediately, they had problems keeping up with the arrows, but they tried their hardest.

"Ay, ay, ay, I'm your little butterfly," crooned the singer. Stiles and Scott had been feeling especially nostalgic. "Green, black and blue make the colors in the sky."

"Crap!" Scott said, right as he slipped and fell off the dance platform. "Ow."

Stiles tried not to laugh at Scott's misfortune, but he couldn’t stop himself. He nearly failed the level, but someone dressed as Deadpool hopped up to take Scott’s place. It helped him focus, and he managed to finish the song. He got a D, but he would take it as a victory.

The girl dressed as Lara Croft gave them both some water, smiling and inviting them back the next day. They kind of panted at her, gulping down the water, before they nodded to her.

After that, they were pretty exhausted, so they headed back to the hotel. When Stiles opened the door to the room, he found Peter sitting in the armchair by the window, reading a book. Peter looked up and smiled.

"God, am I glad to see you," Stiles said, setting his bags on the bed with the others and going over the take Peter’s book to place it on the table and climb in the man's lap. He straddled Peter’s legs and sat back on his knees, lacing his fingers behind Peter’s neck.

"Long day?" Peter asked, taking the opportunity to grab Stiles’s ass.

"Probably not nearly as long as yours," Stiles admitted with a shrug. "But there was a lot of stimulation for my overactive little brain."

"If you need a distraction--an anchor, you can always call me," Peter told him without even having to think about it. "If it's you, I'll always answer."

Stiles fought the urge to hide his face and giggle like an embarrassed schoolgirl. He couldn’t stop his smile though. "I have Scott, but if I ever don't, I'll let you know."

"Good," Peter said, drawing Stiles closer and leaning up to kiss his lips.

Stiles’s stomach chose that moment to growl like a cave beast. They both looked down. Stiles covered his eyes with a groan, but Peter gave an amused chuckle.

"Hungry?" Peter asked with a smile that Stiles wanted to knock of his face. With his mouth. “When did you eat last?”

“Lunch,” Stiles admitted. He wasn’t sure how he’d gone over nine hours without food and was only just now feeling it. He rubbed his belly as it made another insistent noise.

“Well, that won’t do,” Peter said, before he made a gesture for Stiles to move so he could get up. “Tell Scott that I am taking you both out. I have no idea what’s around here, but we will find something.”

They ended up at a booth in Outback Steakhouse, of course, because it was the only place that wasn’t closing in half an hour. Peter was on one side, while Stiles and Scott were on the other. The boys both looked like ravenous wolves as they were sat and given menus, their eyes big and hungry. Peter had a bit more grace and didn’t look like he was going to start gnawing on the table.

“What are you two in the mood for?” Peter asked, gazing down at his menu.

“I need at least one of those onion flower things,” Stiles said. “Maybe two. I’m hungry enough.”

“Those things are as big as your face, Stiles,” Scott pointed out.

Stiles huffed. “I take that as a challenge.”

Peter chuckled to himself, before they looked over as their server arrived with their drinks. 

“Are we having an appetizer today?” she asked after handing them straws. “Maybe a Bloomin’ Onion?”

“Yes,” Peter said. “To start. We’re not quite ready to order beyond that.”

“No problem,” the server said, nodding. Then, she seemed to notice something. “Oh, those are Comic Con badges,” she said, pointing to them with her pen. Scott and Stiles both looked down at the lanyards around their necks. “Are you from out of town?” They all nodded. “Are you guys enjoying it?”

“Oh man, it is _awesome_ ,” Scott said, such a wide grin on his face. 

“It’s the first time we’ve been to a con, so we’re taking full advantage,” Stiles added with a nod. “I bought so much stuff.”

“I watched him buy stuff,” Scott said.

“I bought you more things and just didn’t tell you,” Stiles informed him. 

Scott’s head whipped toward him. “Nuh uh!”

“Yuh huh,” Stiles replied mildly.

The server giggled, before she looked to Peter. “What about you? Are you having fun at the con?”

“Oh, I’m not going to the con. I just have business in the city,” Peter said with a shrug. 

“Aww,” the server said, pulling the writing pad to her chest, before she looked to Stiles and Scott. “What a nice dad you two have. I’ll have that Bloomin’ Onion right out.” Then, she walked off.

A kind of silence fell over the table. Peter was frowning after the waitress, looking puzzled and definitely a bit offended. Stiles was pressing his lips together so hard they were white. He looked at Scott and found him in a similar state, and when their eyes met they both started shaking with the effort to keep from laughing. 

“It’s not that funny,” Peter told them in a low tone.

Somehow, that made it funnier, and Stiles had to bite his lip to resist the giggles, and he was still making little snuffling sounds with his nose. “It’s completely funny,” he managed to say, his voice shaky. “ _Dad_.”

“Pff!” Scott exploded with laughter, far too loud for polite company, but that was a thing about Scott. He always laughed hard. He quieted down the moment people looked their way, covering his mouth and giggling. “I’m not white. How could you be my father?” he asked in a whisper through his fingers.

That made Stiles break too, exploding into giggles. “Yeah, Dad, explain that magic,” he said, covering his mouth with his fingers.

“Stop teasing me, son, or I might have to spank you,” Peter replied in such a smooth way that Stiles was struck dumb, face flaring red.

Scott’s chuckling tapered off after a little bit, before he tilted his head. “Wait, what?”

Peter just smiled.

* * *

Back in the hotel room, Stiles flopped horizontally on the bed and groaned. "I ate so much food," he whined, unable to summon the energy to bring an arm down to rub his belly. "I shouldn't have eaten that lava cake. It was so good, but I shouldn't have eaten it." He looked over as the bed shifted, finding Peter sitting down next to him.

"You enjoyed it, and that’s what matters," Peter told him, smooth as silk.

"You need to stop feeding me such good food," Stiles said with a yawn. "I'm going to get fat and you won't be attracted to me anymore."

"It's not your body I'm attracted to," Peter said, turning and lying down on his side, his cheek on his bicep.

Stiles lifted a brow.

"Well," Peter said, back pedaling with his eyes bouncing around the room. "Not entirely."

Stiles smiled and turned toward Peter, snuggling into his front and sighing as the smell of Peter’s subtle aftershave filled his nose. "I missed you, Daddy," he said against Peter’s neck.

Peter’s arm came around him, nuzzling his hair and taking a deep breath of him in return. "I missed you too, baby boy."

Stiles looked up just as Peter looked down, and they shared a chuckle as their noses bumped. They kissed, and it was a lazy, easy sort of thing. Stiles didn’t have to get used to Peter again. His senses were tuned to him, his body accepting Peter’s hands and lips like it was an everyday occurrence.

Stiles wished it was.

Peter’s hands undressed him slowly, unveiling his skin like it was something precious to be cherished. He didn’t stop until Stiles was down to his boxers, which were tented. Peter dragged his gaze slowly over Stiles’s body, and Stiles found that affected him just as much as a caress of fingers. He let out a soft noise.

"I have this urge to immortalize you," Peter said, dragging his fingers down Stiles’s sternum to his belly button. He rubbed his thumb through the happy trail there.

Stiles shivered. “What, like with your camera?” 

“I did regret not taking pictures of you when I came to see you,” Peter told him, his hand moving down Stiles’s hip and thigh while avoiding his dick completely. His blue eyes lifted back to Stiles’s face. “Can I?”

Stiles licked his lips, before he nodded his head. The idea of being caught on film in such a state thrilled him. He hadn’t even known that was a thing for him, but it was. His dick twitched at the thought.

Peter gave him a slow dirty smile, before he got off the bed and went to the table, where his camera bag was sitting. He pulled the camera out, searched for the right lens and attached it, before he came back over to the bed. Then he climbed up on it so he was standing over Stiles, his socked feet on either side of Stiles’s hips. “I hope you know how beautiful you are,” he said.

“You’re a little delusional,” Stiles said, smiling awkwardly because he wasn’t sure what to do.

“Hardly. I see beauty all day long, not just in models. I have a photographer’s eye, so I see the simple, but profound loveliness in many things. Like in a mother walking down the street with a bag of groceries in one hand and a baby on her hip. The sleek lines and silver trim of a black sportscar. In a child playing on a swingset.” Peter lowered his camera and smiled. “Moles dotting perfect pale skin.”

Stiles flushed, a little dizzy with this, and he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth.

“That’s perfect,” Peter said, lifting the camera back to his eye and snapping a few shots.

Stiles smiled, still biting his lip, and Peter kept on taking pictures. Stiles moved slowly, finding it easy to change his face and body subtly as Peter kept taking pictures. Stiles touched his fingertips to his lips, turning a bit and bringing his shoulder up. 

“I could do this all night and well into the morning,” Peter told him, stepping back a bit on the bed to get a wider shot.

Stiles snorted. “If you had told me you were going to be here, I could have brought the panties and modeled them for you.”

Peter paused, moving the camera to the side, before giving a sigh. “I see the error in my ways.” 

That made Stiles laugh. He sat up and laid his hands on Peter’s thighs, looking up at him in a way he hoped was alluring. Peter’s lips parted a little as he looked down at him, so he must have been doing it right. “Why don’t you put your camera down?” Stiles asked with a sigh. “I want you to fuck me.”

Peter’s brow twitched, before he brought his hand down to run his thumb across Stiles’s bottom lip. “Sweet boys that ask nicely get what they want,” he told him, his voice deeper, husky.

Stiles opened his mouth against Peter’s thumb. “Please, Daddy,” he begged softly. “Please, fuck me. I need it.” He flicked his tongue across Peter’s thumb, before he drew it into his mouth and gave it a suck.

That seemed to satisfy Peter, because he let out a rumbling noise. “That’s my boy,” he said, before he turned and dropped off the bed, taking the camera back to his bag. He took all of the things that Stiles had brought and dumped on the end of the bed off, taking them to the table. After that, he started undressing as Stiles watched, anxious for their skin to touch. 

Stiles took himself in hand as Peter revealed himself, stroking gently because he just needed a little stimulation, or he’d go mad. Once naked, Peter leaned over him and grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand away and pinning it to the bed. Stiles let out a whimper.

“None of that, pet,” Peter said. “Not unless you really want me to spank you.” 

Stiles sucked in a breath, arching a bit off the bed. “I wouldn’t stop you,” he said in a small, breathy voice.

Peter’s brow lifted up, before his tongue drew across his lips. “Do you want me to spank you, Stiles?”

Stiles could only nod, then he squealed as the world tipped and, in a show of grace and strength unlike no other, Peter got him situated over his lap, ass up. He wrapped his arms around Peter’s thigh and dropped his head as he tried to give in, to surrender. This was Peter, and he trusted him, but there was a part of him that said pain wasn’t a thing he should welcome.

The first strike was a feeling he couldn’t have prepared for, and he let out a sharp noise at the sensation of fire burning his ass for a few seconds before it became a throb. Stiles sucked in a breath, letting the tension in his body loosen, before dropping his head again. The strikes came again, each one sharp and hot, but slowly, almost indecipherably, the pain changed. Instead of sounds of discomfort, he started to let out grunts of pleasure. His cock began to harden again after flagging from the first spanks.

Things got a little hazy after that. Stiles let himself just _feel_.

Then he was being moved, his body slack and limbs heavy. He could feel only his skin tight with goosebumps and the raw ache of his ass. He opened his eyes, finding himself on his back with Peter leaning over him.

“Darling, did I hurt you?” Peter asked, looking genuinely concerned.

“No,” Stiles said, blinking up at him. It was then he felt something on his face, falling with gravity. He lifted his hand and touched his cheek, finding it wet with tears. He sniffed and rubbed at his face until it was dry. “I liked it,” he admitted, and he wasn’t ashamed, he realized.

Peter let out a breath he might have been holding, before he leaned in and gave Stiles a kiss. “I’m glad to find you have a hidden masochistic streak. We should probably have a sensible discussion about it before experimenting further.”

Stiles smiled, before he moaned as Peter reached down and gave his still hard cock a stroke.

“Do you still want me to fuck you?” he asked, and Stiles let out a shuddering moan, before he nodded his head.

Stiles’s backside continued to throb as he was maneuvered on the bed, and he watched as Peter fetched the lube and a condom from his bag. The preparation was easy. Stiles’s body was loose, and he felt weighted like his limbs were made of sand. He just moaned as he was stretched, and Peter didn’t seem to mind. He just pulled Stiles’s legs up around his waist as he sank into him.

Panting and moaning wasn’t enough as he was fucked. After a minute, he started to babble. “Daddy, please, I need to come,” he moaned, pawing at Peter’s shoulders. When Peter leaned in, he wrapped his arms about his neck. “Daddy, Daddy,” he went on, gasping in Peter’s ear.

The pleasure was so acute it was nearly pain. His skin felt too tight, like he was going to burst. He continued to rant, to beg and plead, and Peter murmured back in his ear. “I know, sweet thing,” he was saying as he pounded into Stiles’s aching ass. “I’ll make you come.”

That feeling like he was trapped in a space too small for him was back, and he scratched at Peter’s back, whining and arching. He just needed to come. And he needed Peter to come inside him. That would make everything perfect.

Peter got a hand between them and took hold of Stiles’s dick, drawing a sharp cry from him. He pumped him without the intent to tease, and Stiles could feel himself racing to the edge. He was so close it was almost painful. He just needed a little more to push him off.

Peter growled into his neck, which was hot enough, before he opened his mouth and sank his teeth into Stiles’s skin. Everything exploded, like Stiles was bursting open, and he probably let out a sound, but he didn’t hear it. Everything was white and warm and nothing hurt. Everything was Peter.

When Stiles came back to himself, he was panting, and he managed to focus his vision enough to look up at Peter, who was still moving inside him, but not nearly as rough. He was gazing down at Stiles with blue eyes completely dilated, a wild, almost feral look on his face. 

Stiles reached up and touched his cheek, his hand a bit shaky. “Come on,” he mewed, voice small and rough. “Come in me, Daddy.”

Peter groaned, eyes fluttering shut, before he rocked one last time into Stiles to the hilt, stilling and fisting his hands in the blanket. He had such a beautiful O-face, or at least Stiles thought so. He didn’t get all scrunched up like he was in pain. His face was slack, free of lines with his lips parted. It made a curl of warmth tingle up Stiles’s spine to see his Daddy in such ecstasy.

When Peter collapsed, he managed to do so to the side, that way he didn’t crush Stiles under his weight. Stiles was pretty sure he wouldn’t have cared. He watched Peter breathe and come back to himself, grinning when his eyes opened again.

“All worn out, Daddy?” Stiles teased gently, touching the damp hair stuck to Peter’s forehead.

“Yes, you minx,” Peter rumbled, chuckling.

“It’s only fair,” Stiles told him, sinking back into the bed and sighing. “I’m not moving. My legs no longer work. I blame you.”

“Happy to take credit,” Peter said, pushing himself up with a grunt. He went to take care of the condom, before he came back, shutting off the light on the way, and pulled Stiles into his embrace.

Stiles settled against him with a pleased sigh, never wanting to leave his Daddy’s arms.

* * *

The second day of the con was much like the first. Stiles bought a stupid amount of merchandise, a good portion of which he would give Scott later when they were at home. They attended a panel for the Supernatural cast, and Stiles tried his hardest not to geek out and scream like some other people. Scott was happy to wait for two hours in line with him and then sit by him as it was progressing, but he wasn’t interested. It was too bad that Allison hadn’t been there. She would have screeched herself hoarse. 

Peter took them to dinner again, this time Italian. Stiles ate his weight in pasta and then spent an hour getting eaten out until he was sobbing to come. After being fucked into the mattress again, Stiles flopped partly on top of Peter, not in any hurry to go to sleep. They would be parting ways again the next day, so he wanted to prolong it as best he could.

Stiles ran his fingers along Peter’s collarbone, his eyelids a bit heavy, but he refused to give in. “You should surprise me by showing up out of nowhere all the time,” he said, sighing softly.

“I would that I could,” Peter told him, his fingers dragging across Stiles’s back, catching on moles like he was trying to memorize where they were.

“You should have seen all the looks I got since you bit my neck. Like I’d been mauled,” Stiles said, smiling to himself.

“I might have gone a bit overboard,” Peter said, and that was certainly not an apology. Not that Stiles wanted one.

“Scott just looked at it once and accepted it.” Stiles tilted his head up. “I can just imagine what my other friends are going to say when they see it. Alex will probably laugh himself silly.”

“Alex?” Peter asked. “This is a name I have not heard.”

Stiles blinked, shifting to lift up on his elbow to look at Peter’s face. “Did I forget to mention him? We met at the club on New Year’s. We danced together, and he tried to get me to go home with him.” He tried not to take any delight in the face Peter made. Tried and failed. He giggled. “I told him I couldn’t though, because I have an awesome boyfriend.” That made Peter snort. “Are you jealous?”

“Would you think less of me if I were?” Peter asked, lips quirking up at the corner.

“That would be kind of hypocritical of me, since I would turn into a raging dragon if I hear someone flirted with you,” Stiles told him, and Peter’s smile widened. “Seriously. Fire breathing everywhere.”

Peter let out a laugh, before he pulled Stiles closer. “Well, fortunately for the peasant villages in the land, I shut down any attempts to flirt with me barely after they’ve started.”

That made Stiles’s eyebrows go up. “Oh, get flirted with often?” he asked, folding his arm on Peter’s chest and dropping his chin to rest on it. 

“Quite often. After all, I am exquisite,” Peter said with a sharp grin.

Stiles let out a surprised bark of a laugh. “So modest!”

“Hello, have we met?” Peter asked, still smiling. “Don’t worry your pretty head, pet. I am quite taken with monogamy.” 

Stiles bit his lip, endlessly charmed. He shifted to lay his head on Peter’s shoulder, touching his chest again. He’d scratched his nails all along Peter’s chest while they were fucking, but there was no evidence of it. Same for the back scratching the previous night. Peter had really tough skin, apparently.

“When is your Spring Break?” Peter asked, drawing Stiles out of his thoughts.

“Um,” Stiles tried, unsure. He shifted enough to grab his phone, looking up the Berkeley calendar right fast. “March 20th to the 26th,” he said, looking back to his Daddy. “Why?”

Peter gave him a smirk. “I thought so. How would you like to come to New York for a few days?”

Happiness bloomed across Stiles’s face and in his heart. “Yeah?” he asked, turning to drape partly over Peter’s chest. “You going to show this simple small town boy around the city?”

“You are anything but simple,” Peter told him, lifting a hand to cup the back of Stiles’s head. “But yes. I want to show you the city, my apartment. I want to have you to myself for a week instead of just a weekend. There is also a large fashion show that week that I’m shooting, and I would love to take you.”

Stiles bit his lip, happy to the point of bursting. “Yes,” he said, excited. “A thousand times, yes.”

Peter grinned widely, pulling him closer to kiss his lips. Stiles found himself giddy, and soon he was taken with giggles that he just couldn’t stop. Peter laughed with him.

* * *

“This isn’t fair,” Stiles said on a defeated sigh as he stood in front of Peter, the loaded car and Scott behind him. He was holding Peter’s hands and was reluctant to let go. It was going to be ages before they saw each other again, or that was what it was going to feel like.

“I know, dearest,” Peter said, moving closer and pressing a kiss to Stiles’s cheek. “Send me a text when you get home. I won’t answer right away, because I’ll be on the plane, but I’ll reply when I touch down.”

Stiles nodded, before he pressed himself to Peter’s chest and held him tight. “I’ll miss you.”

“And I you,” Peter said into his ear. “Be good.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay. Don't worry, I won't make you wait as long for the next chapter. I'm eager too to have Peter and Stiles together in New York.
> 
> Next up: Walk walk fashion baby.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one ran long, but I like where it went. :D

Waiting for Spring Break was worse than waiting for both Christmas and birthdays combined. Stiles was counting the days, but? they were going by so slow. It wasn't fair. Peter didn't leave him to wallow alone, of course. They talked everyday, sometimes all day if there was no school or work to be had.

Today was not one of those days. Stiles was sitting in class, learning about sea mammals and wishing he could pet a whale. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out under the cover of his desk.

It was a snap from Peter of a Starbucks cup that said 'Petyr.' The words attached were 'Am I the worst slime in Westeros?'

Stiles grinned remembering the times he and Peter Skyped while watching Game of Thrones. They both liked Dany the most, because she was obviously the best. Seriously. Dragons.

To Peter: 1:05pm  
Nah, you're not Littlefinger. Your finger is anything but little. C8

From Peter: 1:07pm  
_Thank you for that ego boost. I appreciate it._

To Peter: 1:08pm  
Glad to be of service. I miss you.

From Peter: 1:09pm  
_I miss you too. But there are only three weeks left until I get to hold you again._

To Peter: 1:11pm  
I know. I'm so excited. But these three weeks are going to draaaag on.

From Peter: 1:13pm  
_Just think about all the fun you’re going to have in New York._

To Peter: 1:14pm  
That makes it worse!

To Peter: 1:15pm  
I don’t even know what we’re doing other than the fashion show.

From Peter: 1:17pm  
_It’s a surprise._

To Peter: 1:18pm  
Oh god.

* * *

Two weeks until New York, and Stiles needed a chew toy. He kept gnawing on pens until they were ruined. He even got ink in his mouth once and nearly vomited because he gagged so hard. It was all because he kept zoning out while thinking about New York. Usually he had serious anxiety about going to new places, like he would get lost because he didn’t know where anything was. But he knew this wouldn’t be the case, because he had Peter.

“We should go see a movie while I’m there,” Stiles said, talking into his headset while he browsed the Steam marketplace on his laptop. Did he want Tales From The Borderlands? Yes. Yes, he did. He bought it. He was supposed to be studying, but he was easily distracted.

“We should,” Peter said in agreement. He was looking over stills while sitting as his desk. “There’s a great theatre here than California doesn’t have.”

Stiles snorted. “Movie theatres are movie theatres. They’re all the same.” He set up his new game to download and install. Then he picked up his textbook.

“Not this one. It’s called Movie Tavern, and it as much a restaurant as it is a theatre. There are tables at the chairs, and you can order all kinds of food and drinks. Even alcoholic ones.”

Stiles sat up straighter, lowering his pen from his mouth. “Are you saying that I could get shitfaced if I don’t like the movie?”

“If you wanted to,” Peter answered, chuckling. 

“Ho my gawd,” Stiles gasped, very excited about this now. “I hope you know you just doomed yourself to a drunken Stiles experience.”

“Oh no, whatever shall I do?” Peter said in an breezy way, obviously unfussed. 

“I don’t even know what movies will be out then,” Stiles said.

“We’ll figure it out,” Peter told him.

Stiles had to smile. They had never been fussy about planning their time together. Everything just came so easily to them. “Yeah, we will,” he agreed, and Peter smiled at him in the little Skype window.

* * *

One week to go, and Stiles had been banned from borrowing Lydia’s pens. Then she told everyone in the apartment, and no one would give a pen. However, one day he got home and there was a package of twenty pens and a note from Scott that said, ‘Hopefully these will last you until you leave.’ Stiles smiled down at them, before he put his stuff down and headed out into the living room.

Scott was in the kitchen, standing in front of the microwave as it popped a bag of popcorn. He looked over as Stiles came in, smiling. “Hey, dude,” he said.

“Hey,” Stiles replied, coming to stand next to him, before he nudged Scott’s elbow with his own. “You know you get me like no other?”

Scott’s smile got larger, and he pulled out the bag of popcorn when the microwave beeped. “Well, you’re my brother. Of course, I do.” He opened the bag of popcorn and offered it to Stiles, who took a handful and shoved it in his mouth. “I don’t think I’ve told you how happy I am for you, have I?”

Stiles grinned around a mouthful of popcorn. 

“I am,” Scott told him, shaking the bag to spread the butter and salt. “I would have been first in line to kick Peter’s butt had he hurt you.” His smile turned soft, wistful. “But I’ve never seen you so happy before. And he makes you feel that way, so I’m glad he’s around.”

Stiles swallowed the popcorn and nodded. “Thanks, man,” he said, looking away. “I feel great, and for once I’m not afraid that it’ll end in tears. It’s so crazy, but I feel like he really likes me, y’know?” He looked back up, and Scott was shaking his head.

“Nah, bro. I’ve seen the way he looked at you.”

“Yeah?” Stiles asked, before he headed out into the living room. “What does he look at me like?”

Scott followed him, sitting down on the couch next to him and digging into the popcorn. “Like you’re the best thing on two legs.”

“Aww,” Stiles said, feeling giddy as he turned on the TV and Xbox.

“I’m serious,” Scott said. “He might love you, man.”

Stiles bit his lip, looking over at Scott. “You think so?” he asked, and Scott nodded. “Wow.”

“What about you? Do you love him?”

Strangely enough, Stiles didn’t even have to think about it. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I think I do.”

* * *

Stiles was expecting to fidget and be anxious during the flight to New York. It was a six hour flight, after all, and he was so bad at sitting still. But when he sat down--in first class!--he realised it was the most comfortable chair in existence, and it could lean back. There was even a foot rest. He was able to settle easily into some reading. He’d brought along _Nation_ , a young adult novel by Terry Pratchett, who was an author Peter had introduced him to.

He read peacefully for a while, before he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He couldn’t believe he was going to have his Daddy all to himself for a whole week. It felt like something he’d been dreaming about for such a long time. He fell asleep smiling.

The plane jerked when it touched down, wheels squeaking a bit, and Stiles woke with a start. It took him a second to orient himself, and when he got his wits back, he grinned. He was in New York! He grabbed his carry on bag, a messenger bag with three books and his laptop, and headed off the plane with the rest of first class.

Once he was in the walkway, heading into the airport, he pulled out his phone, turned it back on, and hit Call once he had Peter’s info up. He put it to his ear, already grinning. When Peter answered, he squealed. “Hey!” he said, not even bothering to keep his voice down. “I’m here! Oh my God, I’m here. I can’t believe it. You’re going to have to pinch me when you see me, preferably on my ass.”

Peter laughed, and it sent a shiver down Stiles’s spine. “I’m at the bottom of the escalator in baggage claim,” he said. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Me too,” Stiles said, walking faster now and following the signs. “I actually slept on the plane, so I am wired.” Turn left, walk straight, turn right. “You’ll have to wear me out.” He could see the escalators now, quite a ways down the hall.

“Oh, trust me, I have plans for you,” Peter said.

“Am I going to like these plans, Daddy?” Stiles asked, glancing around to see if anyone heard him. No one seemed to be paying attention to him. “Do they involve me in your lap?”

Peter chuckled darkly, and it was a sexy sound. “Later. First I have something special in mind.”

“And you’re not going to tell me what it is?” Stiles reached the escalators and bounced as he descended.

“I did say it was a surprise,” Peter said mildly.

Stiles huffed, gazing down the escalator. A pair of legs appeared under the ledge, and Stiles let out a little gasp. He just knew. Slowly he was revealed, and he grinned at Stiles, swiping his thumb across the screen of his phone. Stiles just shoved his phone in his bag and lumbered down the rest of the way, before he flung himself at the man. Peter grunted, stumbling back a couple steps, but he was able to catch and hold Stiles around the middle, holding him up where his feet dangled. 

Peter smelled so good, so Stiles took a few deep breaths. He didn’t want to let go, just wanted to hold him forever, but had to in order to kiss the man, which he did. He smooched every inch of Peter’s lovely face, making him laugh, before Stiles claimed his lips. It was a kiss he was happy to lose himself in, to relearn the ways Peter’s lips felt and the way his tongue moved. 

Their lips made a soft noise when they parted, and Stiles grinned as he was set down, pulling the strap of his bag higher on his shoulder. He leaned in forehead again Peter’s holding onto the fabric of his shirt. “Hello, Daddy,” he said softly, bumping their noses together. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, sweet boy,” Peter said, before he kissed him again. He then relinquished Stiles of his bag and slung it over his shoulder, taking his hand and lacing their fingers. “I’m excited that you’re here. There are so many things I want to show you.” He started toward the baggage belts. “But first, are you hungry?”

“Starving,” Stiles said, just realizing so himself. “I slept through the in flight meal.”

“What are you in the mood for?” Peter asked as they waited for Stiles’s luggage. 

“Oh man, I don’t know. What’s good in the city?” Stiles bounced on his toes in anticipation. 

Peter took a deep breath and blew it out through his lips, and Stiles turned to look at his profile. “So many things.” He lifted his hand and scratched lightly through his well trimmed facial hair. “There’s a great Mexican place with cemitas. Oh there’s this falafel place. Also, if you like dumplings, there’s a wonderful little joint in Chinatown. Or, of course, there’s pizza--deep dish pies. Oh, and lobster rolls.” He hummed and looked at Stiles. “Any of that sound appealing to you?”

Stiles’s face was starting to hurt from all the smiling. “Yeah,” he said, and there were a few beats before he realized Peter needed a longer answer. “Ugh, pizza. I’ve always wanted to try really authentic pizza. My life has only been Dominoes and Pizza Hut.”

“Well,” Peter said, squeezing Stiles’s hand. “That will change. We’re going to Totonno’s.”

Once they got Stiles’s bag, they headed out into the parking garage. When they got to Peter’s sleek silver car, Stiles had to take a moment to be awed. It was a beautiful, a car he’d never thought he’d see himself in. He put his bags in the trunk, grabbing his phone, and heading to the passenger side. He climbed in and tried not to touch anything. His shoes were way too dirty for them car. His everything was too dirty. “So I finally get to ride in your car.” 

“Like it?” Peter asked, turning the key in the ignition. The engine purred to life, and Stiles let out a pleased squeak.

“It’s awesome,” Stiles said, buckling himself in. “I thought you didn’t drive in the city though?”

Peter snorted, pulling out of the parking spot. “I wanted to impress you.”

Stiles gave him a wide grin. "You don't have to try to do that. It comes naturally to you."

Peter's lips twitched, like he was fighting a smile, before he just let it happen. "I hope it lasts."

Stiles patted Peter’s hand, the one on the gear shift stick, before he looked outside as the exited the airport area. Stiles almost stuck his face right into the window. There were tall buildings and crowded sidewalks. Everyone was on their cellphones, and Stiles was pretty sure that all the people he saw were models.

Stiles felt like a country bumpkin, especially since he was from a town like Beacon Hills. 

They reached the pizza joint and parked in the last available spot. They got seated at a high table in chairs that made Stiles feel like a toddler. He swung his feet as he looked at the menu, smiling because didn’t have a reason not to. He ended up ordering a steak and mushroom deep dish pie, while Peter got a regular crust pepperoni and onion.

"So what are the fashion shows like?" Stiles asked, holding Peter’s hand on the table. The simplicity of casual public affection made his heart feel like it had wings.

"Hectic," Peter replied, running his thumb along Stiles’s fingers. "There will be a lot of shouting and mostly naked models running about. The actual show feels almost anticlimactic. Unless someone falls down. But I hope that doesn't happen."

Stiles let out an amused 'pff' sound. "Have you seen someone fall down before?" 

"Someone fell _on me_ once," Peter said, and Stiles’s eyes went wide. "I was kneeling almost at the end of the runway when a model's high heel broke. It was almost in slow motion that she stumbled and fell off the runway on top of me. She pretty much blinded me with the ruffles of her dress. She quickly apologized, took off her shoes and got back on the runway to complete her walk."

"That's amazing," Stiles said.

When their food arrived, Stiles picked up and piece and took a generous bite. He promptly let out a moan, because _oh my god_ it was so good. He was probably having a religious experience.

"Do I need to leave you two alone?" Peter asked with a laugh, biting into his food too. 

"Shut up," Stiles said, mouth full of awesome pizza. Peter just chuckled again.

Stiles ate almost his entire pizza, because he was twenty-two with the stomach of a teenager. Peter ate quite a bit too, and he didn’t look like he was going to succumb to a food coma afterward. Stiles was as jealous as he was pleasantly sleepy. He hummed as Peter paid and left a generous tip, before he toddled after him to the car.

"Ready for your surprise?" Peter asked, giving Stiles a smile as he started the car.

"Born ready," Stiles told him, sinking into the chair and letting the smooth ride lull him into a waking doze. He leaned his head against the window and watched the scenery go by. There were so many people on the sidewalk, and most of the cars on the road were taxis. It was a long ride, but it was comfortable.

He let his eyelids droop as he watched the signs go by. He hummed softly, honestly ready to fall asleep, until he read a sign that had an arrow pointing straight and the words _New York Aquarium._

Stiles's head jerked up, and he sat ramrod straight. "Are we--?" he started to ask Peter, before he smooshed his cheek against the window to look forward. "Are we going to an aquarium?" he asked, eyes wide. He felt totally awake now.

"I figured it was a thing you might be into," Peter said easily, the handsome bastard. "Was I right?" 

Stiles peeled his face off the window, starting to bounce in his seat. "Yes, yes, oh my god, yes." He clapped his hands excitedly, not unlike a seal. "I may pass out from joy," he wheezed.

"Pass out later," Peter said, reaching over to pat Stiles’s thigh. "I want you to be wide awake to enjoy this." He turned into a massive parking lot and paid for a parking pass as Stiles wiggled around in a way that was close to his _gotta pee_ dance but was actually his _giddy as shit_ dance.

Once they were parked, Stiles managed not to go screaming and running to the entrance, instead grabbing onto Peter’s arm and dragging him to the ticket booth. He bounced as Peter bought their tickets and a map of the aquarium, handing said map over to Stiles. 

"Where do you want to go first?" Peter asked, smiling like the smug asshole he was. 

It took a minute for Stiles to decide. He was so scatterbrained that he couldn't read the map at first. But when he finally took in a deep breath and let it out, he turned and pointed. "Thattaway," he announced, before he marched off. 

Peter followed after him, chuckling.

Stiles wanted to see the display with the sharks in it first, because he was a child and had been fascinated in sharks since he was a kid and had seen his first Shark Week on the Discovery Channel. He had made an effort to learn all about sharks and planned on eventually writing his dissertation on them. The subject exactly was still something gone undecided.

They stepped into a tunnel underneath the aquarium, and there were fish all around them. It was good that Stiles wasn’t claustrophobic, because this would have given him a serious attack. While he was looking for a shark, he spotted something way too adorable for words. He squealed and knelt down to get a better look.

"Are those baby stingrays?" Peter asked, standing behind him.

Stiles nodded emphatically. "Hello, precious sea ravioli," he cooed at the babies. One of them was pressed against the glass, and it wiggled its graspers, which looked like legs, and Stiles squealed with joy. "I'm pretty sure they are urotriygonidae? Also called round rays. They're the most common ray in the Americas." He looked up at Peter. "But ray babies all look the same. They could be a different species."

"I'll have to take your word for it,” Peter said, looking amused. “They’re cute though.”

“Aren’t they?” Stiles said, standing up and wiggling his fingers at them. “You know, that I could stay here forever.” He wrapped his arms around one of Peter’s, looking around as they continued down the tunnel. “Chaetodon reticulatus,” he said, pointing to a black fish with mostly white scales and yellow stripes. “I love aquariums. Oh, that’s gnathodentex aureolineatus. We went to Vegas once, and I snuck away to the aquarium. Hey, pseudanthias olivaceus.” 

Stiles leaned his cheek against Peter’s shoulder, feeling at peace surrounded by all this water and sea life. “That’s lutjanus lutjanus,” he said, pointing to a school of silver fish with yellow stripes. “Bigeye snappers. Oh, there’s caesio teres.” Stiles sighed happily, before he pointed out some seahorses as hippocampus kuda. He kept pointing out things, before he froze as he spotted something in the water.

“ _Homigawd!_ ” he gasped, running over to the glass and cupping his hands around his eyes against it. “Is that was I think it is?” he asked, watching a long black shape swim through the water. “I know you’re a shark. Come to me.” He bounced and wiggled with joy as the shape came closer. Stiles wailed with joy as it swam close enough to be determined. “Thresher shark!” he said, clapping his hands like an excited toddler before pointing at it as it swam over the top of the tunnel. “Thresher shaaaark. Look at that tail.”

Peter laughed, watching the shark swim away languidly. “No Latin this time?”

Stiles shrugged, glued to the glass. “I’m pretty sure it was an alopias vulpinus which is the common thresher, but it could have been the alopias pelagicus which is the pelagic thresher or even the alopias superciliosus which is the bigeye thresher.”

Snorting, Peter shook his head. “Forget I asked,” he said, holding out his hand for Stiles to take. “Listening to you speak Latin is hot though. I didn’t know that was a thing for me.”

Holding onto Peter’s hand and lacing their fingers, Stiles grinned, his face flushed. “I only know names. I couldn’t hold a conversation. I’m taking French at school and I can only ask where the bathroom is.”

“I speak French,” Peter said, and Stiles looked at him in surprise. “Je suis à l'aise.”

Stiles stumbled. “Oh god, I just creamed myself,” he said with a laugh, moving closer to wrap his arm around the man. 

They traveled around the rest of the aquarium. There was an exhibit where you could touch the smooth skin of a manta ray, and Stiles eagerly stood in line for it. Peter didn’t seem to mind waiting with him, even though he obviously wasn’t getting as much out of this as Stiles was. Stiles had uncontrollable giggles as he touched the ray, running his fingers lightly over its fin.

“Hello, little dude,” he said. “Wait, are you a dude?” He leaned over to look at the ray’s pelvic fins. “My mistake. You are a lady.” That made the aquarium person holding the ray laugh. Stiles grinned.

At one point they saw some clown fish, and Stiles regaled Peter with info about how clown fish could change gender. “Not at will, mind,” he was saying. “But it a dominant female dies, the non-dominant male steps up to take her role.”

“That’s fascinating,” Peter said, looking at the colorfully bright fish as they rubbed themselves against the fronds of the anemone. The next thing that caught their interest was an octopus that was just skittered across the sand in the tank. It looked like a happy little thing, mostly tan color with bright blue rings. When prompted, Stiles declared it was the genus hapalochlaena.

It was almost six--the closing time--when Stiles and Peter were heading for the exit. Stiles was pleased with his day. He nuzzled Peter’s shoulder all the way, before he stopped when something caught his eye. “What’s that?” he asked, nodding to a vendor stand that was packing up.

“Sea salt ice cream,” Peter replied, and Stiles looked at him with wide eyes. He must have looked cute or something, because Peter smiled at him. “Have you never had it?” 

Stiles shook his head. “Doesn’t it just taste like salt?” he asked. That didn’t sound tasty. He could remember that the characters in the second Kingdom Hearts had eaten it, and he’d thought it was a Japanese thing.

Peter smirked, and then Stiles found himself being dragged over to the ice cream stand. They both got a torpedo-shaped ice cream, and Peter sucked at the end of his as they continued to the exit, lips so red against the blue of the ice cream. It distracted Stiles enough that he stared dumbly and almost walked into a sign. He corrected himself, grabbing Peter’s free hand, before he stuck the treat in his mouth. He was prepared for salt, which he got, but there was also a sweet creaminess. He moaned at the taste, sucking. 

“Your food is getting more action than I am,” Peter said in a fond huff. 

Stiles turned his eyes toward him, nose wrinkled in amusement. “You’re the one about to give me a hard on before we even reach the car,” he accused, and Peter let out a loud, sudden laugh. It made Stiles grin that he could cause such a reaction in the man. The ice cream was dribbling down his fingers, and he lapped it up as they walked hand in hand to the car.

* * *

Peter’s apartment complex was tall, and Stiles bounced around in the elevator on the way to the top floor. It was accessed by a special keycard that Peter had, which meant the whole floor was his, and Stiles was so damn excited. Peter just stood there and watched him, holding Stiles’s bags on his shoulders. Stiles looked at him and giggled, moving closer, stealing a quick kiss that devolved into something slow and hot.

The doors dinged open, and Stiles pulled away to race into Peter’s apartment. He took everything in as he dashed about, high on adrenaline. “You have such a big kitchen!” he said, looking at all the stainless steel and black appliances. “I think your fridge is twice the size of mine.” What guy living alone needed that much space for food? Honestly.

Stiles wooshed his way into the living room where Peter had set his bags in a chair and was watching him in amusement. Stiles flung himself onto the couch, bouncing with a laugh, before he sat up and wiggled his butt. “Soft!” He realized, belatedly, that Peter probably didn’t want his shoes on the furniture, so he kicked them off and continued to look around while in socked feet.

He was going to head to the toward the hallway and the closed doors, which were just daring him to look inside, but he paused when he saw the door to the balcony. It was frosted glass, and Stiles couldn’t really see through it, but he just knew that there was something awesome out there. He dashed through the door and gasped as he was assaulted by cool air and the sound of the city.

“Oh my God,” he whispered, taking in the balcony furniture, the jacuzzi and the fucking pool. It was covered, and it was too cold to swim, but Stiles had the feeling he would be back here for the summer if not sooner. He stepped over to the railing and sucked in a gulp of air. He could see _everything_ : the tops of buildings, the lights of cars, the people on the sidewalks looking like ants and the water on the horizon. “Wow.”

Two arms came around his middle, and Stiles looked back as Peter pressed up against his back and held him. He chuckled and laid his arms over Peter’s, letting his head fall back on his shoulder. Peter kissed his neck and nuzzled his ear. Stiles sighed deeply, feeling completely content with his Daddy wrapped around him.

“Like it?” Peter asked quietly, lips right at Stiles’s ear.

“Uh huh,” Stiles said, turning his head toward Peter. “It’s so perfect, Daddy.” 

“Good,” Peter said, before he stepped back and turned Stiles around. “Now, let’s get you settled.” He pulled Stiles back toward the door. “Hungry?”

Stiles’s stomach answered before he had the chance, and he blushed hot in embarrassment.

Peter just looked amused. “I’ll take that as a yes. I’ve been looking for a chance to cook for my baby boy,” he said, leading Stiles to the couch, where he sat him down. “I make a pretty good chili beef and pepper stir fry.”

“That’s it,” Stiles said, throwing up his hands and flopping down on the couch. “You’re going to kill me with all this good food. It’s going to be such a good death though. Make sure to put a rose on my coffin and tell all my friends and family how much you loved me.” He started, realizing what he just said. 

Peter didn’t seem to mind, probably didn’t notice or take Stiles seriously. “I will,” he said breezily, before he headed into the kitchen.

Stiles breathed out a breath of relief. He stayed there a moment, before he remembered he had been supposed to do something upon arrival in New York. “Oh shit,” he hissed, pulling out his phone. He sent both his father and Scott texts that he’d made it safely. Almost immediately his phone began to ring, Scott’s info lighting up the screen. He answered with a “Hello?”

“Hey, bro, you’re on speaker,” Scott said, and there was a round of ‘hi’s and ‘hello’s from the rest of Stiles’s roommates. “So, how is it? Is it awesome?”

“It’s so awesome,” Stiles said with a laugh. “He took me out for pizza, then surprised me with a trip to an aquarium!”

“Oh God, we’ll never get you back now,” Lydia said, lightly like she didn’t actually mind. Stiles knew it wasn’t because she was heartless. It was the opposite. She would have given up hanging out with him if it meant he was happy. He loved her for it.

“Right? It was so cool. There was a thresher shark, and I geeked out so hard, you guys. Now he’s making me dinner, and I’m probably going to gain like fifteen pounds while I’m here.”

“You’ll work it back off when you get back on your bike,” Allison told him.

“Tell your friends I say hello,” Peter’s voice floated out from the kitchen.

“Peter says hi,” Stiles said with a giggle. “I better go and see if I can help make dinner instead of being totally worthless.”

“Have fun, dude,” Scott said, and they all said their goodbyes.

Stiles stood up, heading for the kitchen. Part of the way there, his phone buzzed.

From Pops: 7:10pm  
_Glad to hear you made it okay, kiddo. Be safe._

To Pops: 7:12pm  
I will, dad. Thanks.

Stiles shuffled into the kitchen in his socks, standing awkwardly by the fridge as Peter pushed around some wonderful smelling food in a skillet. He could feel himself salivating. “Anything I can do?” he asked, edging closer to look at the food. 

“No, I’ve got it,” Peter said, and Stiles reached toward the skillet, feeling too hungry and curious for his own good. “I will smack your knuckles with this wooden spoon if you don’t remove your hand though,” he promised, and Stiles shuffled backward. “There’s beer in the fridge if you want to entertain yourself.”

Stiles huffed and went to the fridge, opening it up and finding the beer. “Brooklyn Brown Ale,” he murmured, smiling because Peter remembered he liked dark beer. 

“I thought you might want to try some local beer while you’re here.”

“Totally,” Stiles said in agreement, twisting off the cap and taking a deep swig. He hummed in appreciation. “It’s good.” 

“I’m glad,” Peter said, focusing on the food.

Stiles moved over to the breakfast bar, hopping up onto a stool so he could watch Peter. “You know told me you could cook,” he said, rolling the beer bottle against his palms.

“It must not have ever come up,” Peter replied simply, before he looked over his shoulder at Stiles. “I cook about as much as I eat take out. I have been waiting to feed though. There’s something base, primal about providing for you.”

“You are a good provider,” Stiles told him, meaning every word, and Peter gave him a smile before going back to the food.

When the food was served, Stiles danced around, following Peter to the table like an excited puppy that sometimes got human food. He couldn’t help himself. Being around Peter just made him feel like he didn’t have to thoroughly think through his every action. He could just be his goofy self. The two beers he’d had didn’t help either. 

The stir fry was served over rice, and Stiles didn’t waste digging in. He moaned at the taste. Of course it was wonderful. What did Peter ever do that wasn’t fantastic. “I may have to move in with you,” he said, licking the underside of his fork. “If you’re going to make me food like this, anyway.”

Peter chuckled, picking up his beer and taking a drink. “We’ll talk about that after you’ve finished school,” he said in an almost carefree way.

Stiles’s face started to burn, and he couldn’t stop his grin, but instead of saying more, he went back to eating. He swung his feet back and forth, before he paused as Peter’s socked feet laid over his, warm and wide. Stiles just kept on smiling as he calmed. He didn’t need to be so edgy. Peter had him.

When they were done eating, Stiles was determined to do the dishes, since he’d been a worthless bystander while Peter had cooked. He only got as far as putting the dishes in the sink before Peter wrapped his arms around him and tugged him away. Stiles let out a surprised squawk as he was hoisted up over Peter’s shoulder, totally caveman style. Stiles blinked, laughing loud as he watched Peter’s butt while being carried. He couldn’t help but grab handfuls of it and squeeze.

His world tilted again as he was plopped down on the bed, and he grinned up at Peter, who was giving him a heated look. Stiles licked his lips, gazing back. He could feel his face heating up, from both the alcohol and the want for Peter to do nasty things to him. He grabbed his outer shirt and tugged it off.

“Wait,” Peter said after Stiles tossed his shirt away. “Let me.” He took Stiles’s hand and pulled him into a sitting position, before he pulled his shirt over his head. Then he pushed him back down, and Stiles laughed with a grunt. Peter undid his pants and pulled them open. He looked surprised for a fraction of a second, before he smiled. “You dirty boy,” he said, and it was like the highest praise. 

Stiles grinned like the little shit he was, before he lifted his hips as his pants were pulled off. He had worn the panties, and and they felt just a bit damp from the precome his dick was oozing. “You’re not the only one with surprises,” he said, voice low as he stretched his arms above his head and let his legs fall wide open.

Peter dragged his eyes along Stiles’s body with a gaze that was heavy enough to be felt, like fingers. Then he pulled his own clothes off, leisurely, because they had all the time in the world. His cock wasn’t fully hard, but it was still thick, his foreskin rolled up over the head.

Stiles reached for him, wanting to hold that dick in his hand, but Peter caught his hand and pinned it over his head. Then he grabbed his other hand and did the same. “Keep those there for me,” he said, his face inches from Stiles’s. “If you are a good boy, I’ll reward you.”

Stiles licked his suddenly dry lips, before he swallowed and nodded. “Okay, Daddy,” he whispered, probably sure he wasn’t allowed to talk.

Peter’s eyes took on a kind of a feral look, appearing brighter than usual for just a fraction of a moment, before Peter took Stiles under the knees and pulled him so his butt was almost dangling off the bed. Then he dropped to his knees and started to suck at the wet patch in the panties. 

Whimpering, Stiles put his head back, closing his eyes as his fingers curled in the bedding. The panties was tugged down his legs and left to curl around Stiles’s ankles as Peter pushed Stiles’s legs up and laid his thighs and moved under them. He put Stiles’s thighs on his shoulders and buried his face against him, licking at the puckered hole there.

Stiles really wanted to grab Peter’s hair, wanted to grind against his face, but he also wanted his Daddy to think he was a good boy. So he just moaned and took it, knowing Peter liked him loud. He felt loose and sloppy, already so ready just from a bit of spit and anticipation. He opened his eyes and looked down at Peter, finding him looking zen with his eyes closed and face relaxed.

Peter lapped at him until Stiles was trembling, his cock hard and leaking. He wanted to beg, to plead for Peter to give him more, but he was determined to obey. He shifted, toes curling, and he pulled at the bedding, unable to keep completely still. He moaned, pretty sure that if Peter kept this up, Stiles would come from 20% stimulation and 80% frustration. 

Peter didn’t let him go that long though. He moved back, knocking Stiles’s legs apart and making the panties fall, before he opened his nightstand and dug out the lube and a strip of condoms. He tore off one of the condoms and put the rest back.

Stiles licked his lips. “Daddy,” he murmured, soft and hesitant. 

Peter looked up, and Stiles bit his lip, unable to find his voice. Peter set the lube and condom down, before he leaned over Stiles and touched his cheek. “What is it, baby?” he asked, expression open. 

Stiles sucked in a breath, mute. What if Peter didn’t like what he was going to ask of him?

But Peter climbed onto the bed, pushing Stiles further up, and grabbed his hands, lifting them to his face. He kissed his fingers. “You’ve been a very good boy. Tell Daddy what it is you want to say.”

“Um,” Stiles tried, before he bit at his lips.

Peter gazed at him a moment. “Alright then,” he said, before he pulled Stiles up and turned, leaning against the headboard with Stiles in his lap, cradling him. “It’s alright, darling. You can tell me anything. Daddy won’t get mad.”

Stiles let his eyes flutter shut, leaning against Peter and feeling his mindset change. His Daddy was right. He wouldn’t get mad. He would never get mad and hurt Stiles. Never. Stiles was safe. He let out a shaky breath and opened his eyes to look at Peter.

“I don’t…” he tried, finding his throat dry. He swallowed a few times.

“Don’t what, kitten?” Peter asked, a frown on his handsome face. “Are you not in the mood? I assumed…” He looked down at Stiles’s dick, which was still hard and had a pearl of precome on the head. “We don’t have to, if you don’t want to. You shouldn’t be afraid to tell me no--”

“No,” Stiles said, very suddenly and not at all meek. His eyes went a bit wide then, and he cleared his throat. “I want to,” he assured him, voice soft again. Peter lifted his brows, and Stiles took a deep breath. “I don’t--I don’t want to use condoms anymore,” he finally said, dropping his gaze and touching the soft hair on Peter’s chest.

“Oh?” Peter asked, and he sounded pleasantly surprised, and Stiles looked up to find his lips pulled into a smile. “So I can come in your sweet ass? So you can carry me around inside you, slowly dripping down your thigh?” He touched Stiles’s inner thigh with his fingertips, drawing them down to the underside of his knee, which made him shiver. “Is that what you want, baby?”

Stiles bobbed his head in a nod, shifting as he felt Peter’s dick bump his butt. Apparently Peter was very much into this idea. “I know--I want to do it now. I haven’t ever--not with anyone else but you. And I know you’re clean. I--I trust you.”

That made Peter suck in a breath, a bit shaky, before his smile returned. “I’m clean,” he promised, cupping Stiles’s knee. “I would get tested in an instant if you wanted.”

Stiles shook his head, shifting up onto his knees. He braced them on either side of Peter’s hips, taking his face in his hands and gazing into those blue eyes. “I trust you,” he said again, with more conviction.

Peter stared up at him a moment, before he reached over and grabbed the lube. He slicked up a couple of his fingers and reached behind Stiles. He slid those fingers through the crack of his ass, before he sank them into his hole. Stiles gasped, rocking forward and then back, and Peter hummed up at him.

“Daddy, Daddy,” Stiles whimpered, sinking down on Peter’s fingers again and again, his dick bobbing between them.

“I know, dear one,” Peter said, withdrawing his fingers. He grabbed the lube and slicked up his cock, holding the best of it as he grabbed Stiles’s hip with the other. He guided him down, gentle despite the urgency that Stiles was feeling. “Go on, pet,” Peter said in a soft voice. “Fuck me.”

Stiles shifted so he could put his weight on his knees, before he braced his hands on Peter’s shoulders. He didn’t bother working up to a hard rhythm, instead just dropped, lifted, dropped, hard and harder. Little noises were punched out of his lungs as he moved, and Peter matched his noises. They became a dance of rocking torsos, their lips sliding together as they grunted and moaned.

Peter pulled Stiles closer, fisting a hand in his hair and tilting his head back to get at his neck. Stiles was getting louder, his pleasure mounting, and the feel of Peter’s teeth against his neck only added to it. There was going to be a mark again, and Stiles welcomed it. He’d hated looking in the mirror and seeing his neck bare. He wanted bite marks and hickeys everywhere. He wanted people to know who he belonged to.

When Stiles came, it was like a shock through his system, bursting out of him as light and color exploded behind his eyelids. He collapsed against Peter’s front, his arms around his shoulders, and Peter let out a growl, taking hold of his ass and thrusting up into him. He bit into his neck as he came too, his hips hitching and his fingernails digging into the globes of Stiles’s ass. They felt extra sharp for a second, but they were gone almost immediately.

Stiles was slumped against Peter, their stomachs sticky with his come. He could feel Peter starting to soften inside him, but neither of them made any move to part. Peter actually slid his hands up Stiles’s back and pulled him closer, if at all possible.

“Give me a moment,” Peter said, voice heavy. “And I will start up the hot tub. We’re up high enough that there’s a beautiful view of the stars.”

Stiles nuzzled his face against Peter’s neck, sighing happily. He just let himself relax completely, knowing that Peter would move him when he was ready. Stiles’s ass and neck were achy, and he was happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Giant dorky Stiles is fun to write.
> 
> Next up: A little fashion and a little fur. Arooo.
> 
> Two chapters left.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to have this up like three days ago, but my brain was like "Nope, eat a lot of ice cream and sleep 14 hour stretches." So that's what I did.

Peter made eggs for breakfast, and Stiles ate them while just in his boxers, sitting next to his Daddy with his legs in his lap. As Peter ate, he ran his fingers along Stiles's thighs, light and almost ticklish. He goosed Stiles’s knee once, and Stiles shrieked around a mouthful of food, almost falling out of his chair. He growled at Peter, who seemed to find that totally adorable, because he just laughed and patted Stiles’s shin.

 _Jerk,_ Stiles thought fondly.

Peter's shower had a rain shower head and then a second, movable shower head. The water pressure was probably the best that Stiles had ever felt. He just stood under the water as Peter cleaned him, soaping up his body top to bottom. He even washed between Stiles’s toes. 

Then Peter turned Stiles around and pushed him up against the shower wall, going to his knees and taking him into his mouth. Stiles gasped, hand going to Peter’s wet hair. He hadn't been hard, but it didn’t take long before he was. There was something excruciatingly hot about Peter sucking him off, water running down his face and dripping off his long lashes. His pink lips were stretched over Stiles’s cock, and he looked serene. Stiles came embarrassingly fast just looking at him.

They had lunch, which was spaghetti with homemade noodles. Stiles had stood by and watched as Peter rolled out the dough, thinning it over and over, before he ran it through the machine and cut it into long noodles. He dropped them in the boiling water, and Stiles licked his lips.

Of course the food was fantastic. He would never expect anything but.

It was just after one when Peter and Stiles started toward the venue for the fashion show. They took a cab this time, Peter grousing about how he couldn’t be bothered to find parking in the chaos that would be the show. The taxi driver gave them suspicious looks as he drove, probably because Peter had an arm around Stiles, and Stiles was almost in Peter's lap. Stiles batted his eyes at the driver, smiling, and he looked back at the road.

The building in which the show was being held was huge building, a warehouse that had been decked out for the show. Peter and Stiles were dropped off at a side entrance, and Peter hauled his equipment out of the trunk. He had a whole case of cameras and film, but he hefted it like it weighed nothing.

They went inside, and immediately, they were thrown into mayhem. There was shouting, models running around mostly naked. They were all so tall and ethereal like fey creatures. The makeup they were all wearing made their faces look sharp, eyes huge, so that didn't help. 

Stiles jumped out of the way of model in just a skirt, bra and heels. "Beep, beep, coming through!" she shouted as she went by. She almost crashed into a makeup station, which she hurriedly sat down at.

"Wow," Stiles said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Hectic, isn't it?" Peter said, walking through the madness with determination in his step.

"Yeah," Stiles agreed, sticking to him like glue. "Exciting though."

They reached the epicenter of the pandemonium, where a man in a shimmering dark purple suit was shouting, a small woman with a clipboard next to him, writing frantically. "This is it!" he man yelled, flailing his hands. "This is the end of my career! I will be shunned! Never will I work in fashion again!"

"You say that every time, Jes," Peter remarked, and the man turned toward them, looking startled.

"Peter!" the man called Jes wailed, flinging himself toward Peter for a hug. He also air kissed his cheeks. "Peter, my dear Peter, everything has gone awry! I don't know what I will do."

"I'm positive you'll figure it out," Peter told him mildly.

Jes huffed, before he looked at Stiles, eyes going a bit wide. "And who is this beautiful creature?" he asked, looking like he wanted to touch.

Peter set down his equipment. "Jes, this is Stiles Stilinski. Stiles, this is Jesse Moore, the designer that's headlining the show."

"Stiles, what a fantastic name," Jesse said, still looking Stiles up and down. "Goodness, your face. You have amazing beauty marks. And your nose! What a cute little thing. You have a wonderfully long neck, ah! I cannot stand it!" Jesse grabbed his hands, letting out was high pitched noise. "Who gave you the right to have such elegantly long fingers?"

"Uh," Stiles tried, before his eyes went wide as his face was grabbed.

"You must let me dress you," Jesse told him, low and determined. "Come along." He took Stiles’s hand and started to pull him away.

Stiles shot a desperate look at Peter.

"Jes," Peter said, wrapping an arm around Stiles and holding him back. "Stiles is not a model. Please don't traumatize him."

Jesse pouted rather dramatically. "Oh, foo, fine, kill my joy." He threw his hands up and continued away. "I suppose I will go back to the insanity! You there! Wipe off that blue eyeshadow right this minute! I will not have it in my show!"

Stiles let out a bubbly laugh. "Wow," he said, looking toward Peter. "He's... something else."

"Oh, he's completely touched in the head," Peter said affectionately, picking up his equipment again. "Most creative people are at least a little insane."

Stiles chuckled, following Peter. He almost got bowled over by a model whose huge teased hair was in her eyes. She stumbled into him, apologized and jogged away in heels that were dangerously high.

“Okay, so,” Stiles started as he walked after Peter. “How many broken ankles have you witnessed?” 

Peter set his equipment on a table with a heavy thump. “None, actually,” he said, giving Stiles a smile. “All of the models I’ve seen have been quite skilled at walking on stilts. You’d have to be to get to this level.” He turned and pointed to a model that was having her hair done. “That is the model that fell on me that I told you about,” he said. “Her name is Abbie.” 

Stiles couldn’t help his grin. “So you just make friends with all the models that fall off the runway onto you?” he asked, and Peter snorted as he was putting his camera together. 

“It’s a small amount of people,” Peter informed him, pulling the strap of his camera over his head to rest around his neck. “They’ll be starting soon. Let’s go out into the main area. You’ll have one of the best seats.”

Nodding and grinning, Stiles put his arms around one of Peter’s and walked with him. They came into a large room with a long runway and chairs on either side. There were already so many people in the chairs, even with the show not starting yet. Peter took him to almost the end of the runway, before he pointed to a chair. There was a paper on the seat that said ‘P. Hale.’ Peter picked up the paper, and Stiles planted his butt in the chair, giddy with excitement.

The rest of the chairs filled up quickly, and Stiles was flanked by people that looked _important_. The woman to his left had a pad of paper. Maybe she was a writer for a fashion magazine. The woman to his right was tapping quickly on her Blackberry, probably telling all five of her assistants what she wanted to do for the rest of the week.

Stiles looked over at Peter, who was kneeling next to the runway, looking ready to snap some pictures. He had a realization and pulled out his phone, taking a picture of the runway and stage area. He sent it off to Lydia.

To The Red Queen: 1:43pm  
How jealous are you?

Stiles didn’t bother putting his phone away, because he knew Lydia would be quick to respond. His phone buzzed, and he smiled.

From The Red Queen: 1:45pm  
_I am the kind of jealous that fuels murder._

Well, that wasn't worrying or anything.

From The Red Queen: 1:47pm  
_Did you find out what designers are in the show?_

To The Red Queen: 1:49pm  
I met Jesse Moore. I don't know if there is anyone else.

From The Red Queen: 1:50pm  
_You met Jesse Moore??!!?! You son of a bitch!!_

To The Red Queen: 1:51pm  
Love you too, Lyds.

The lights went down over the audience, and there was a murmur of excitement. Jesse came out from behind the curtain with a microphone. He started to tell everyone how appreciative he was that everyone was there to witness the work he'd put blood, sweat and tears into.

To The Red Queen: 1:53pm  
Show is starting. I'll try to get you an autograph.

From The Red Queen: 1:54pm  
_asgfjrufhdksgd_

Stiles shoved his phone into his pocket, grinning like a doofus, as Jesse finished up his speech and bowed. There was applause, before he headed into the back again. Music started up, a fast beat that had Stiles’s heart thumping hard in his chest. He bit his lip and tangled his hands over his knee as the first model came out.

The show went by in a flash. All of the clothes were beautiful, and the models were angelic. They glided in heels, their outfits billowing out majestically. Stiles was a bit astounded. He looked at Peter and then couldn’t look away. He was in his element, snapping pictures as he knelt on his knees. Stiles watched him with a dumb, giddy expression on his face.

He almost couldn’t believe he was here, experiencing this kind of amazingness. He never saw himself going to fashion shows or even to New York at all. But here he was, and he felt comfortable on his skin, not edgy or out of place. It was all thanks to Peter. His Daddy gave him everything he could ask for and more.

Stiles felt his heart thumping hard against his ribs. He was going to tell Peter he loved him. He was. At some point in this trip, he would work up the courage to tell Peter he wanted to be his boy for the rest of his life.

The models came out again, all of them this time in a row of big hair and beauty. Stiles applauded along with the rest of the audience, smiling wide enough to hurt himself. He felt elated. When the models made their way back again, Jesse took a final bow and the lights went up. 

The women on either side of Stiles stood up, and he did too after a beat. He moved over Peter, who was fiddling with his camera, and headbutted his shoulder. When Peter looked at him, surprised, Stiles just grinned and bounced in place.

Peter let out a bit of a laugh. "Have fun?" he asked, and Stiles nodded emphatically. "Good. I just need to grab the rest of my stuff, and we can leave." He held out his hand to Stiles, who took it.

"Do you think I can get Jesse Moore's autograph for Lydia?" Stiles asked as they headed into the back.

"I doubt he would say no," Peter told him, giving his hand a squeeze as they walked. 

In the back, it was chaos again. Everyone was half naked, and most of the models were huddled in a group, staring at Jesse as he rampaged around, shrieking. “Get rid of it all!” he was saying, nose turned up as he flapped a hand at the racks of clothes. “I never want to see any of it again!” He paused as his assistant murmured to him, before he let out a mighty huff. “They have my sketches and blueprints. They can use those!”

“Giving away your entire collection again, Jes?” Peter asked smoothly, unthreatened by the huffy man. 

Jesse turned toward them, red in the face. “I absolutely cannot be bothered to take it all back to my studio. Girls!” He snapped in the direction of the models. “Take what you want. Leave nothing behind!” He grabbed a scarf off a chair and jerkily put it around his neck, flipping one end over his shoulder. “I have to stop looking at it, so I’m leaving!” 

“Oh, Jes,” Peter said, stopping him. “Stiles wanted to know if he could get an autograph.”

Jesse’s eyes went a bit wide, before a smile bloomed across his face. “Really?” he asked, before he blindly held out his hand to his assistant, and she pulled a portrait of the man out from her overstuffed messenger bag. She smoothed it on her clipboard and handed it to Jesse with a silver marker.

“It’s not for me,” Stiles said, almost gently, and Jesse looked up at him in betrayal, marker poised. “It’s actually for my friend, Lydia?” He said, trying to smile kindly at Jesse’s increasingly deep frown. “She freaked out when I told her that you were the designer for the show, so I told her I’d try to get her an autograph.” 

Jesse’s nostrils flared with his huff. “Lydia, you said?” he asked, looking down at the portrait of himself. “L-Y-D-I-A?”

“Yes,” Stiles said with a nod, watching him write. “You know,” he went on softly, and Jesse lifted a brow without looking up. “I don’t really know anything about fashion, but I can definitely say you’re my favorite designer. You’re awesome, dude.”

Jesse’s lips twitched like he was fighting a smile and trying to hold onto his annoyance, but eventually he just gave in and grinned. “You know, usually I don’t like being called ‘dude’ but you’re just so damn cute I can’t stay mad.” He handed over the autographed picture over then grabbed Stiles by the back of his head and pulled in him, smooching his forehead with a loud smack.

Stiles laughed as he stepped back, before he looked down at the picture. It was wonderful shot with him smiling hugely. ‘Dear Lydia, Stay Fabulous. Love, Jesse Moore’ it said in curvy script that was so stylized it was barely legible. “She’s going to love it,” he said with a happy sigh, before he looked up at Jesse. “Thank you.”

“No problem, sugar,” Jesse said, looking pleased with himself. “Make sure you get some goodies for your lady friend too. Hurry or the girls will hoover everything. Bye, babies!” And he walked off with a sashay. 

Stiles held the autographed picture and just grinned. He knew Lydia was going to love it. She was probably going to hug him and scream in his ear like she did when she was excited. He looked at the models going through the swag and made a face. “I don’t know if I want to go into that.”

Peter chuckled. “You would be the lone zebra amongst lionesses,” he said, before he took Stiles’s hand and pulled him away. “How about you stick with me for now? It won’t take long for them to pick through what’s there. You can go through the leftovers.”

“Good plan,” Stiles agreed, walking with him. “They deserve it all more than me anyway.” He watched Peter take apart his camera and put it back in the case. “Get some good shots?”

“I think so,” Peter told him, shutting the case. Then he turned toward Stiles. “So, I had a thought. How would you like to go to dinner and a movie after I handle all the business with my pictures?”

Stiles probably would have been wagging his tail had he one to wag. “Yeah!” he said, nodding. "That sounds awesome. I mean, we can’t exactly call ourselves boyfriends if we haven’t had a movie date.” He pulled out his phone, about to look up movie times when he remembered he was in a different state all together and didn’t know any of the theatres. “Uh,” he said helplessly.

“Movie Tavern in Midtown,” Peter told him helpfully, looking amused.

“Okay,” Stiles said, looking it up. “Well, we haaaave…” He listed all of the movies available, and they talked for a bit about which one sounded like the best fit. A couple of them they didn’t even know. They decided on the rom-com, because they were both completely clichéd. It had Katherine Heigl in it though, so at least her role would be good. They decided to go to the 6:15pm showing, which would give them plenty of time.

By the time they’d finished deciding, the back of the fashion hall was practically a ghost town. All of the models were gone, and there were just a few people cleaning up. Stiles headed back over to where the clothes and accessories were. There wasn’t much to choose from. He picked through a few things and tried to remember what kind of clothes Lydia and Allison wore. 

He found a silvery silver top with a black lace back that Allison would probably like. He couldn’t find any good clothes for Lydia, but he found a case shoved between two makeup stations. It was full of unopened make up, the plastic still wrapped around everything. He stared at the inside for a while before he jumped as someone cleared their throat beside him. It was a woman, probably one of the make up artists if the splotches of colors on her hand were anything to go by.

“Oh, sorry,” Stiles said, shutting the make up case and holding it out to her. “I was just looking for something for my friend. I guess I can’t have that, huh?”

The woman just made a dismissive gesture. “Nah, the models take make up all the time. Everything else is thrown away.”

“Oh,” Stiles said, looking down at the case.

“Do you know anything about makeup?”

“I put eyeliner on once,” Stiles said, and there was a snort. He looked over to see Peter staring off another direction and pretending like he wasn’t listening. “I don’t think I did it very well though. I got it in my eye.”

“Well, what is she like, your friend? What kind of skin does she have?” the woman asked, moving closer and taking the case. She set it on one of the stations and opened it up. “This stuff if for someone with fair skin.”

“Oh, Lydia’s pretty pale,” Stiles said, before he just pulled out his phone. He flipped through his pictures until he found one of Lydia in good lighting, showing it to the woman.

“Ah, a redhead,” the woman said, going through the make up. She took a couple things out before she dug through the stations and found more unopened stuff, sticks and tubes and what have you. She put it all in the case and handed it over. 

Stiles took it with a “Thank you.” He gave her a smile and headed toward Peter, before he paused as he spotted something. He grabbed it, a long, thin black scarf that Isaac would probably wear year around, the dork. Peter looked at him as he got closer, and they shared a smile. Stiles shifted all of the things he had to one arm and took Peter’s hand. They walked out to the cab together.

They headed back to the apartment, where Peter said Stiles could wait while he handled his business. Stiles told him that was no problem because Peter had a huge TV and all the good channels. Peter gave him a slow kiss, one that felt like something he probably shouldn't have given since he was leaving. Stiles affectionately called him an asshole when he drew back, and Peter left while smiling.

Stiles flipped through the channels a bit, his socked feet tucked underneath him. He found a run of _Spartacus_ and decided that was good enough. There was plenty of dick. He pulled out his phone and tapped out a message.

To The Red Queen: 3:23pm  
I got you stuff.

From The Red Queen: 3:24pm  
_What stuff?_

To The Red Queen: 3:25pm  
You'll see.

From The Red Queen: 3:26pm  
_Oh goddammit. When are coming home again?_

To The Red Queen: 3:27pm  
Sunday night.

From The Red Queen: 3:28pm  
_Oh fuck you in the face with something hot and pointy. That’s so far away._

To The Red Queen: 3:30pm  
So nice to me today!

From The Red Queen: 3:33pm  
_You shut up. You know I love you. I take it the show is over?_

To The Red Queen: 3:35pm  
Yeah. It was awesome. Peter went to turn in his photos or something, and I'm chilling at his place. We're gonna do dinner and a movie after.

From The Red Queen: 3:36pm  
_I hope you have fun._

To The Red Queen: 3:37pm  
I'm gonna tell him I love him.

From The Red Queen: 3:38pm  
_WHAT_

To The Red Queen: 3:40pm  
It feels right.

From The Red Queen: 3:42pm  
_I want you to know that I shouted and scared Prada._

Stiles couldn’t help his smile. That meant Lydia went home for Spring Break. Prada, her dog, was probably sticking to her like glue, since they only saw each other on holidays.

To The Red Queen: 3:45pm  
Poor puppy.

From The Red Queen: 3:47pm  
_She’ll survive. Are you really going to tell Peter you love him?_

To The Red Queen: 3:48pm  
Yeah.

From The Red Queen: 3:50pm  
_I want to know what he says._

From The Red Queen: 3:50pm  
_Like_

From The Red Queen: 3:51pm  
_Immediately._

To The Red Queen: 3:53pm  
Okay, Lyds, will do. <3

From The Red Queen: 3:55pm  
_I just scared Prada again. I’M JUST SO HAPPY FOR YOU!!!_

To The Red Queen: 3:56pm  
I’m happy too.

* * *

Stiles didn’t mean to fall asleep. One moment he was watching the rain of blood and guts on Spartacus and the next he was blinking awake as someone was saying his name. It must have been his crash from getting so excited before. He looked up and found Peter smiling down at him.

“What time izzit?” he mumbled, pushing himself up and rubbing at his sleep crusted eyes with his sleeve. 

“Later than I meant to come home,” Peter said, and it was an apology.

“Oh,” Stiles said, pawing for his phone. “Are we too late for the movie?” He glanced at the time.

“No, but we will have to go now if we want to make it.”

“Oh, okay, I’m up,” Stiles said, jumping to his feet, but he wobbled a little at the sudden change. He ended up in Peter’s arms, and he hummed a bit as he rubbed his face into his shoulder. “Okay, I’m up for real now.”

Peter chuckled, holding him a little longer. “Let’s go then.” 

Stiles was able to wake up more as they took a cab to Midtown. He held Peter’s hand on the trip, admiring the look of the city in the setting sun light. The streets were busier, filled with people going home from work or out for the night. Maybe sometime he could convince Peter to go on a walk with him, possibly to Central Park. He was pretty sure that after a little whining, his Daddy would fold and give him whatever he wanted. It was a power not to be used lightly.

They reached the theatre and were let out at the front. They got their tickets and headed inside, getting a menu, a list of drinks and a coaster that lit up in case they needed to signal their server. They got a couple seats in the back left, one of the only places left since they’d arrived while the previews were rolling. They ordered drinks and two kinds of small pizzas, a super cheesy and a margarita, to share. 

The movie wasn’t as interesting as Stiles had hoped. It was no fault of Katherine Heigl. She was acting her butt off, but not even she could save that script. Stiles shuffled around in his seat, before he got annoyed at his own restlessness. He lit up the coaster to signal their server.

“A rum and Coke, please,” he said when she came by, speaking softly so he didn’t bother anyone.

“Can I see your ID?” she asked, her own voice lowered. When he handed over his driver’s license, she looked a little surprised, before she nodded and handed it over. She asked if Peter wanted anything, which he did not, before she went to tend to another customer.

Stiles leaned toward Peter. “You may have to carry me out of here,” he whispered to him.

Peter smiled. “I would carry you if you wanted me to, even if you weren’t drunk,” he told him, before he planted a kiss on Stiles’s forehead.

It took a lot in Stiles not to start giggling.

After two drinks, Stiles was definitely tipsy. It really didn’t take much for him. He also drank fast, so by the time he was four drinks in, the movie was only half over, and Stiles was swinging himself back and forth in the comfortable swivel chair. If there hadn’t been people around them, he would have sighed a loud, bored sigh. Instead he just poked Peter in the stomach.

Peter calmly took his hand, not looking away from the screen. He lifted it to his lips and kissed his knuckles, before he dropped their hands to his lap, continuing to hold onto Stiles’s. 

Stiles made a tiny noise of discontent. That hadn’t been the reaction he’d been expecting at all. There should have been a poking battle. Stiles felt warm, a bit heady, like he could fall asleep or pop a bone, given the correct stimuli.

“Hey,” he whispered, pressing his cheek to Peter’s shoulder and getting a whiff of his aftershave. “Kiss me.”

Peter seemed to think about it, flicking his eyes toward Stiles’s mouth and then around at the rest of the theatre. Then he made a little noise that was probably ‘fuck it’ and pressed his lips to Stiles’s. Stiles happily leaned into the kiss, which was much more fun than the movie. If Peter had any qualms about not being able to watch, he didn’t voice them. He took Stiles’s face in his hands and deepened the kiss.

The kiss was a slow thing, tasting like a medley of cheese and alcohol, and Stiles let out a soft huff of a moan at the feeling. Had Stiles had less alcohol in his system, he probably would have been embarrassed about making out like teenagers in the back of a movie theatre. Had he more alcohol in his system, he probably would have been in Peter’s lap, slurping at his face.

Stiles leaned in further, tilting his face so he could flick his tongue along the roof of Peter’s mouth. His tongue got playfully bitten in retaliation, and he chuckled into Peter’s mouth. He touched Peter’s chest, feeling his hard muscle under the soft fabric of his v-neck. He dragged his hand up, fingers combing through the bit of soft hair there, before he touched his jaw. It was smooth but for the goatee.

He’d watched Peter shave that morning, sitting on the sink counter and staring like a creeper. He’d never known that was a thing for him. Watching people shave in movie had been a ‘meh’ experience, not really noteworthy. But watching Peter shave had nearly given Stiles heart palpitations. Something about the soft scraping sound of the blades and the way Peter had splashed his face afterward. Then he’d applied his aftershave and leaned over to kiss Stiles. Yeah, it was a thing for him now.

The lights came up, and people started to get up to leave. Stiles squinted at the light, not impressed. “Ugh,” he said, before he looked at their little table. There was a fresh rum and Coke and the check. He went for the check, but Peter beat him to it. He sighed, shaking his head as he quickly drank his cocktail.

“Did you enjoy the movie?” their server asked after she’d brought Peter his card back.

“Yes, it was lovely,” Peter said with a kind of sincerity that made Stiles snicker into his drink.

Out of the theatre and into a cab, Stiles was still worked up from the kiss. He held Peter’s hand all the way back to his place. And he leaned against him in the elevator, nuzzling him under the chin. Once they were in the apartment, Stiles was still feeling the alcohol, and he ran, giggling, into the bedroom, toeing off his shoes before he bounded onto the bed, stretching out with a grin.

“Is this your way of trying to hint at something?” Peter asked once he reached the bedroom. He leaned his hip against the door jamb and just gazed at Stiles.

“Hint, nothing. Get on me,” Stiles said, before he proceeded to wriggle across the bed and somehow get out of all of his clothes. Magic. When he kicked his pants and underwear away, he sprawled out in victory. “Ready!”

Peter gave him a long look and pressed his lips together, probably because he was trying not to laugh. He put up a finger. “Hang on,” he said, walking back out.

Stiles sat up, frowning, but Peter came back quickly enough, holding a glass of water, which he held out to him. Stiles made a face. “That is not sex.”

“Just drink it, Stiles.”

Stiles’s expression just got more exaggerated. “Eeeh.” He flopped down onto his side and stared up at Peter. "What's in it for me?"

"It would please me, baby," Peter told him.

Stiles hummed, picking at the covers. "I don't knoooow..."

Peter let out a sigh through his nose. “Drink it and I’ll suck you off.”

“Well, in that case!” Stiles took the glass, chugging the water. He smacked his lips as Peter relieved him of the empty glass and set it on the night stand. “You’re wearing too many clothes," he told him, pulling at his shirt. 

Peter pulled off his shirt, before he stepped out of his pants. No underwear, as per usual. He pushed Stiles onto his back, making him giggle. "You're bratty tonight," he said as he grabbed the lube where it was resting on the nightstand from the night before.

"Am I?" Stiles asked, pressing his thighs together coyly. He let out a delighted sound when Peter knocked them apart. Stiles grabbed the tops of his knees and held his legs open wide.

"Maybe I should keep you away from the rum if it makes you petulant," Peter mused as he slicked up his fingers.

Stiles giggled. "You know you like it," he said, loosening his hold on his knee and booping Peter in the stomach with his toes. Peter grabbed that foot with his dry hand and promptly started to tickle him mercilessly. Stiles let out a shriek and almost vaulted himself off the bed.

Peter grabbed his leg and pulled him back down where he'd been, before he took him into his mouth with no warning. Stiles shuddered at the sudden pleasure, before he whined as he felt Peter’s fingers massaging at his hole. "Fuck," he whispered as he put his head back. "Yeah, Daddy, that's good."

It didn’t take him long to get hard, and soon he was trembling, trying not to move his hips as he was sucked. His ass was stuffed full of three fingers, and it was so good, the pleasure so acute, it almost hurt. He whimpered, reaching down to touch Peter’s hair and earning a growl that vibrated through his bones in response. 

“Fuck, _fuck_ ,” he moaned, dragging his nails across Peter’s scalp and arching his back. He was so close. He could feel his orgasm building the the low parts of his body. “Daddy,” he tried to say, tugging at Peter’s hair a little. “Wait, stop, I--I don’t want…” 

Peter pulled off with a pop, his lips swollen red. He looked sinful. “What is it, baby?” he asked, turning his head to run his lips along Stiles’s inner thigh. His fingers crooked, and Stiles whined, hips hitching. “Tell Daddy what it is you need.”

“I want you in me,” Stiles replied, almost in a rush, before he licked his lips. “Don’t wanna come without it.” He wasn’t sure if his whimpering sound whiny or not. But Peter got this look on his face like he was _hungry_ , so Stiles needn’t worry.

“Anything for you, kitten,” Peter told him, sitting back and slowly withdrawing his fingers from Stiles’s hole. It made a slick noise, and Stiles felt empty afterward, clenching at nothing. But soon Peter had himself slicked and was pressing inside. He draped his body across Stiles’s, giving him a kiss. “Better, sweetheart?”

Stiles nodded, wrapping his arms around Peter’s neck and his legs around his waist, ankles hooking together on top of his ass. Then all he had to do was hold on and Peter fucked him, gasping and crying out at each hard drag over his prostate. He started to babble, soft rambles of _Daddy, Daddy_ and _please, please!_ and every now and then _Peter!_

“I love you, Daddy” he finally said, so close to his orgasm that his calves were cramping. 

Peter lifted his head from where it had been buried against Stiles’s neck. His thrusts slowed a bit, and Stiles whined. “What was that, darling?” he asked, voice dark and husky.

“I love you,” Stiles repeated, feeling not a bit of hesitation. Now that it was out there, he wanted to scream it from Peter’s balcony. He wanted everyone to know, and he planned to tell them.

Peter pressed a hard kiss to his mouth, before he started to move again, faster and rougher than before, and Stiles let out a shout at the burst of pleasure up his spine. It didn’t take much before he was back where he’d been before, so close to orgasm that he could taste it. He scratched at Peter’s back, needing just a little more to push him over.

“I love you too, baby boy,” Peter murmured in his ear.

Stiles was pretty sure that that explosion of light before his eyes was just the body quaking pleasure of his orgasm and not the veins of his eyelids exploding. He cried out loud enough to make himself hoarse, shooting hard where his dick was trapped between his and his Daddy’s bellies. 

Peter’s only signs that he was coming were the stuttering of his hips and the low moan he let out against Stiles’s jaw. Then he just laid on top of Stiles, breathing hard. 

Stiles was gasping himself. It should have been more difficult to breathe with Peter on top of him, a pressing weight that could have been oppressive. But if Peter moved, Stiles would probably cry. He cuddled him, running his hands over his back. He probably could have fallen asleep that way, floating on alcohol and orgasm waves.

Eventually Peter stirred and went to move, but Stiles held onto him tight. “No moving,” he muttered. “Not allowed.”

Peter huffed out a laugh, tilting his face up to kiss Stiles. “I’ll be right back, pet. I promise,” Peter said, kissing at his jaw again. “I just want to get us cleaned up so we can sleep.” 

Stiles hummed in consideration. “Okay, I guess,” he said, before he let his heavy limbs drop to the bed. As long as Peter was coming right back, it was okay.

He let his eyes fall shut, sprawled across the bed like a broken doll. He couldn’t help but let himself doze, until he snorted to full wakefulness when he felt something on his stomach. Peter was wiping off the come there, before he cleaned his pubes and dick too, very thorough. 

Then Stiles noticed the glass of water in Peter’s hand. “If that’s for me,” he began, his voice rough, as he pointed at the glass. “You can’t bribe me this time.”

“It would make me very happy if you could drink this,” Peter said, holding it out. Stiles made an unhappy face, but Peter was persistent. “Please.”

Oh, why did he have to go and do that? Stiles groaned, pretending like it was such a chore to sit up and take the glass, drinking down the water. He handed the glass over to Peter, before he made grabby hands at Peter. “Come to me.”

Peter got onto the bed, gathering Stiles in his arms. “We need to talk,” he said, and no one in their laugh wanted to hear those words, especially after such good sex.

“Is this where you say our admissions of love aren’t true because they were said during sex?” Stiles asked against Peter’s collar bone. _Please don’t take it back._

Peter huffed a laugh. “No. It doesn’t matter how they were said. I was sincere, and I believe you were too?”

Stiles sighed in relief. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

“Then what are we talking about?” Stiles asked, looking up at Peter’s face.

Peter hesitated, chewing his lip, and Stiles had never seen him nervous before. “Well, I want you to meet my family,” he said after a drawn out pause. “But there are things I have to tell you--to show you first.” 

Now Stiles was worried. “This isn’t where you tell me you’re mafia or something, right?”

Peter didn’t even smile, but he shook his head. “No,” he said, before he slipped away onto his own space of the bed. “Before we do this, you have to know that I would never hurt you.” He licked his lips. “You know that, right?”

Oh God, what was this? Stiles licked his lips and nodded. He was actually kind of scared now. 

Peter gazed at him a moment longer, before his eyes blazed an electric blue and his face began to change. Stiles gasped, covering his mouth with his hands as Peter’s forehead grew ridges in a point toward his nose, his ears pointed and his grew long. Stiles stared, eyes wide.

Holy shit.

“Say something,” Peter said, sounding like it was difficult to talk with those teeth. And Stiles just stared, shocked into silence. “Stiles, please.”

This couldn’t be happening.

“You…” Stiles tried, voice muffled behind his hands.

But it was happening.

“What?” Peter asked.

“You look…” Stiles was not able to find his words at the moment.

“Tell me,” Peter pleaded, sounding almost desperate.

Breathily and through his fingers, Stiles blurted out the top thought in his hyperactive brain, “You look like a klingon!”

Peter didn’t say anything right away, his features smoothing down into a shocked but human face. His arm gave out from under him, and he dropped to the bed, blinking hugely at the ceiling. “A klingon,” he repeated, before he covered his face with his hands. “Oh my God.”

Giddy, Stiles climbed onto Peter, sitting on his belly and looking down at him. “Can I see your teeth again?” he asked, and Peter dropped his arms, opening his mouth and letting his teeth elongate and sharpen. “Oooh,” Stiles said, before he poked them. “Where do your eyebrows go when you change?”

Peter sighed very heavily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *\o/* One more chapter to go.
> 
> You can't tell me that [Peter's wolf face](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6NTBbDVlK0A/VBlF_LYQxJI/AAAAAAAAAVM/5yqh6UxhxcI/s1600/Peter.png) doesn't look like a klingon. I laughed so hard the first time I saw it.
> 
> Up next: Introducing, the Hales.
> 
> EDIT: Thank you for all your wonderful comments! There are so many, and it's wonderfully overwhelming. I've been too busy to answer, but I love all of you!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wolves, wolves and more wolves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ran so long, almost twice the normal length, but I didn't want to split it up.

"So you're a werewolf?" Stiles asked. He and Peter were lying on the bed, side by side, staring up at the ceiling.

"Yes," Peter replied, calm. All of that anxiety he must have been feeling was gone now that Stiles had poked at his face and went 'ooh, aah.' 

"Werewolves are real," Stiles said, testing the words in his mouth. They felt strange, foreign, but he was pretty sure that if he said it enough, he'd be cool with it.

"Yes," Peter said again.

Stiles lifted his hands and rubbed his palms together, feeling keyed up now. He was so fucking _excited_ about this information. Who didn’t want to know if creatures of the night were real? Goddamn. He wiggled a bit, before he turned his head and looked at Peter, who was calmly lying there with his eyes closed.

“Are vampires real?” Stiles asked, shifting closer so he could nudge Peter’s shoulder with his cheek.

“I have never met one,” Peter informed him, shifting his arm so he could get it around Stiles, and Stiles cuddled in close, pillowing his head on Peter’s shoulder.

“So you don’t have a centuries old blood feud with a clan of vampires?” Stiles asked, and it was a totally serious question, really.

Peter smiled without opening his eyes. “No.”

Stiles huffed, bringing his hand up to comb his fingers through Peter’s chest hair. He guessed there was no _Underworld_ situation to be thrust into, and that was probably for the best. He didn’t want to be the human that was collateral in the end. … Still, it would have been epic.

“Are zombies real?” Stiles asked, catching Peter’s ankle with his feet.

“Not that I’m aware.”

“Mermaids?”

Peter’s smile returned. “Doubt it.”

“Unicorns?”

Peter huffed out a laugh.

Stiles was going through his mental list of Buffy and Supernatural baddies. “What about witches?”

Peter lifted his hand and rubbed as his nose. “I can't say as to whether or not there's a coven of naked women dancing under the harvest moon, but I do know a man that can do amazing things with mountain ash and wolfsbane.”

Stiles would ask more about that later. “Ghosts?”

“I have never seen one, but I like to believe they’re real,” Peter replied, and that made Stiles smile. 

“What about aliens?”

“Now you’re crossing genres.”

Stiles snickered. “I can’t help it when my Daddy is an X-File.” At Peter’s huff, he smiled and snuggled closer to him. “Do you have a collection of werewolf movies?” he asked, and Peter let out a rumble of amusement.

“Most are inaccurate,” he said, moving the arm that was trapped underneath Stiles so he could pet Stiles’s hair. “I avoid them.”

Stiles huffed. “The Wolf Man? C’mon, it’s a classic.”

“No disrespect to Lon Chaney Jr, but no.”

Wrinkling his nose, Stiles rubbed his face into Peter’s shoulder. “American Werewolf in London?”

“Pass.” Peter let out a yawn, rubbing at his face. 

It was getting late, sure, but Stiles was no where near being able to sleep. “Ginger Snaps?” he asked.

“I haven’t even seen that one.” 

“It’s good,” Stiles told him, thinking about it. “Weird though.” He remembered watching it at the age of ten with Scott, and they’d both been confused as to why the werewolf girl had had way more than two nipples down her front when she’d taken off her shirt. They’d been such innocent babies.

These days Stiles and Scott understood. They marathoned scary movies all the time, always with a zombie. Vampires, werewolves, zombies, and whatever else they could get their hands on. Their roommates usually left them to it. Isaac didn’t appreciate a jump scare, and Allison tended to fall asleep and snore. Lydia and Jordan had never expressed an interest. 

Stiles shifted, stretching his arm out across Peter’s chest. “What about that movie where Hugh Jackman’s a werewolf? Van Helsing?”

“Please, no,” Peter replied calmly.

Giggling, Stiles hugged Peter tight. “Or, or, that movie with Michael J Fox in it?”

“Teen Wolf?” Peter supplied.

“That’s the one,” Stiles said, poking Peter’s nipple like a Yes button.

“Nooo,” Peter sang.

Stiles started to laugh. “What about Twilight?”

Peter reached up, grabbed an extra pillow and smacked Stiles with it. Stiles let out a howl of laughter, wriggling around to get away. But Peter just rolled over and grabbed onto him, partially pinning him to the bed. He growled, and Stiles squealed a bit about being held hostage by a big, scary werewolf.

Stiles calmed after that, taken in by Peter’s warmth and the puffing of his breath against the back of Stiles’s neck. He held his Daddy’s hands in front of him and sighed, letting his eyes finally flutter shut. He felt content, loved completely, and so happy. He was definitely ready to sleep, all curled up with his Daddy.

But then he had a thought, and his eyes popped open.

“Hey!” he said very loudly, whipping around to look at a startled Peter.

“What?” Peter asked, blinking a few times, before he rubbed his face. He had probably been asleep when Stiles had his revelation. 

“You totally bit me!” Stiles hissed at him, eyes wide and a little crazed. 

“Yes?” Peter said, obviously not seeing what Stiles was so worked up about.

“Like, through the skin,” Stiles insisted.

“I thought you liked it?” Peter countered, eyebrow jumping up.

Stiles withered a little bit. “I did,” he groused, before he touched his neck. “But couldn’t you have turned me?”

“Oh,” Peter said with a sigh. “No.” He got comfortable again, looking ready to settle down for sleep again.

Stiles stared down at him. “That’s it? No?” He nudged Peter. “Are bitten wolves not a thing?”

“They are,” Peter said, eyes still closed. He reached out and caught Stiles, pulling him down next to him. “But I’m a beta. Only alpha werewolves can infect humans with a bite."

"Oh," Stiles said, halfway splayed across Peter’s front. "Is there an alpha in your--your pack? That’s what a group of werewolves is called, right?" That's what they were always called in movies, but movies weren't reliable, like Peter said.

"Yes, my sister, Talia," Peter said, running his fingers along Stiles's arm. "Before her, it was my mother, Ophelia."

"So when your mother died in the fire...?" He prompted carefully.

Peter didn't seem to mind. "Her power was passed down to my sister, the oldest and most eligible. It changed her, but not necessarily for the worse. She's a good alpha. I have no idea what I would have done had I become alpha. I doubt I would have been any good at it."

Stiles hugged Peter a little tighter, nuzzling his chest hair. "So I get to meet your pack? Are they just your family, or?"

"Mostly. There’s my sister and my brother-in-law, their children and their grandchildren. A couple cousins and their children. The whole pack isn't in the area, but those that are get together and run on full moons."

Humming, Stiles tried to imagine it. They were probably a big bunch, rowdy and playful. "Are there any humans other than me?" he asked, tipping it head up.

Peter still had his eyes closed. He gave a nod. "A few. Laura, my eldest niece, has a human husband. One of her three children is human too, though he wrestles like a wolf. Derek--that's my second nephew--has a human wife. We all get on just fine."

"Oh good," Stiles said on a relieved sigh. "I watched this really bad show--like train wreck bad. I only watched to see how bad it could get. Anyway, there was a small family of werewolves, and the only options for a human after learning about them were death or turning. So. Yeah."

Peter seemed amused by that. "That's dramatic," he said, before he rubbed his hand over Stiles’s back and made him shiver. "I wouldn't do anything to put you in harm’s way."

Stiles snuggled closer. "I know."

* * *

Stiles woke up horny, which was par for the course with him when it came to alcohol. Hungover and miserable or horny and ready to go were his two settings. He moaned and stretched out, bumping Peter in the process, but the man didn’t seem to notice. He was completely asleep. 

Kicking away their covers, Stiles got up on his knees and straddled Peter, sitting right in his lap. Peter snorted awake, sucking in a surprised breath, before he rubbed his eyes and looked up at Stiles.

"Mm, what is this?" Peter asked, voice heavy, before he gave a long yawn. "Am I being held hostage?"

"Yes," Stiles replied, leaning down to kiss at Peter’s chest lightly. "I'm not letting my Daddy up until he makes me come."

Peter let out a growl, and the sound was even hotter now that Stiles knew it was from an animal in human skin. “Is that so?” he asked, setting his hands on Stiles’s thighs.

Stiles felt Peter’s dick twitch, so he rolled his hips, causing them both to moan. His own dick was hard, curving up toward his belly. He’d been leaking since he’d been asleep, since he’d dreamt something wild and crazily kinky that he couldn’t remember now. It had gotten him this far. 

"Can I bounce on your dick, Daddy?" Stiles asked, going for seductive, but that was probably his Batman voice, low and gravely.

Peter didn't seem to care, just tightened his grip on Stiles’s thighs. "You can do anything you like, sweet boy."

That made Stiles want to smile forever and swing his shoulders back and forth. He didn't, just reached over and grabbed the lube, but the giddy urge was there. "Even if I wanted to fuck you instead?" he asked, completely joking as he handed the lube over.

Peter took it. "I wouldn't say no," he said simply.

Stiles froze, eyes going wide in surprise. "Really?"

Peter’s smile changed, slowly turning from sleep soft to something wicked. "Is that something you're interested in?"

Stiles nodded like a bobble head, a bit overzealous in his excitement. It was something he'd never done. He hadn't known that Peter was alright with penetration, or he might have brought it up before. This was blowing his tiny mind.

"Do you want to prepare me, or should I?" Peter said, tilting the lube back and forth with his hand. Because Stiles didn’t know what to say right away, given that those options both sounded awesome, Peter’s smile spread into a grin. "How about I do it," he said, popping the cap on the lube. "And you watch?"

Stiles nodded again, so on board with this idea. He was the captain of this idea, manning the helm and all that.

Peter just kept on smiling. "You're going to need to move. You’re blocking my access."

"Oh, right," Stiles blurted, scampering down the bed so he was between Peter thick calves instead of on top of him. "Good?" he asked, already worried about what he was going to do with his own hands. He was not really one to sit idle.

"Yes, sweetheart," Peter said, spreading his legs wider and pushing his feet against the bed. It put him in perfect display, semi-hard cock against his belly, balls hanging heavily, his taint and his hole, all for Stiles. Peter massaged the rim a moment or two, before he pushed two of his fingers in with a wet catch to his breath.

Stiles put his hands on the bedding, grasping lightly, and he licked his lips as he watched. Peter stretched himself at a leisurely pace, moving his fingers in and out with soft, slick noises. He let out little sounds, 'ahn's and 'mhn's. Stiles wanted to kiss him, to knock his hand away and replace it with his own fingers, or maybe his dick. But he wasn't going to move. He was rooted to his spot.

Peter put his head back, mouth falling open with a gasp, and Stiles could guess what he just touched. His own dick twitched, oozing a pearl of precome. Peter spread his fingers, opening himself up wide, before he hooked his fingers on the rim and _pulled_. Fuck, there was something about being able to see in Peter's red heat that had Stiles whimpering.

Finally Peter withdrew his fingers and held his hand out for Stiles, who went to him like he was touch-starved. Stiles kissed Peter feverishly, supported by his hands as Peter popped the cap of the lube again. The feel of Peter’s cool, slick hand on his dick was enough to make him shudder. After being slathered up, Peter pulled him the rest of the way in, guiding Stiles’s dick to his hole. 

Stiles could have said something about the tightness and heat enveloping him, but mostly his brain’s opinion was ‘asfhgkhsgui.’ He dropped his head against Peter’s chest, whimpering. He needed a moment to collect himself, or else he was going to come immediately. That would be pathetic. 

Peter started to pet his hair, apparently unfussed.

After a minute, Stiles didn’t feel like he was going to combust anymore, so he lifted his head. Peter was gazing at him, eyes barely open with dark lashes framing blue. Stiles lifted up on his elbow, looking down at him, before he kissed him, soft and awfully chaste given what they were doing. Then he began to move, and they both grunted, and the kiss became something dirty.

He got the hang of thrusting a few spazzy hip movements later, and he could feel the pleasure growing in him. But he was worried. “Is it good, Daddy?” he asked Peter in a breathy voice. “Am I doing it right?” He mouthed against Peter’s jaw when he put his head back.

“It’s good, baby,” Peter sighed out. “So good.” He lifted his legs and squeezed Stiles’s hips with his thighs. “C’mon, come in me. I want to feel it.” He raked his nails down Stiles’s back.

And that was the end of Stiles. He gasped, hips jerking, as he came deep inside of Peter. It was perfect, so hot and wet, and Stiles might have made an embarrassing noise that was a mix of a gasp and a howl, probably like a dying cat, but he didn’t care because it was so _good._ He dropped on top of his Daddy and tried to catch his breath while panting into Peter’s neck.

Peter stroked his hair for a while, before he shifted slowly, tipping Stiles to the side and rolling on top of him. Stiles’s soft cock slipped out of Peter as he sat up on Stiles’s thighs. His uncut cock was standing up proud, dark red at the head. 

As Stiles watched, still breathing heavily, Peter took himself in hand and started stroking. He wasn’t playing around either, touching himself in just the right way. Stiles watched as Peter tugged and tugged, until he gasped, spilling across Stiles’s stomach. Peter put out his arm, catching himself on his hand, before he looked at Stiles and smiled.

“That looked like a good one,” Stiles commented with a snicker, feeling soft and a little dazed still.

“It was,” Peter agreed, before he looked down at Stiles’s stomach where his jizz was cooling. He ran his fingers through it, circling and smoothing the gooey liquid into Stiles’s skin.

“Is that a werewolf thing?” Stiles asked, watching him.

“In part,” Peter admitted, continuing the motion. “It satisfies an urge I get when you smelled like me. Like mine.”

Stiles thought about that a second, before he reached down with both hands and scooped the come up over his belly, smearing it across his skin. He rubbed what was left into his chest, circling his nipples with his slick fingers. He smiled as Peter’s eyes went neon blue and he growled.

Peter descended on him, pressing him into the mattress and kissing him fiercely. It was enough for Stiles’s dick to give a valiant twitch. But then Peter’s lips gentled, and the kiss turned sweet. Stiles let out a little mewl as Peter shifted to the side, gathering him in his arms. They kissed and kissed until Stiles’s lips were numb. Stiles settled against Peter’s chest, sighing softly.

“Do you smell like me too?” he asked in a soft voice, barely above the sound of breathing.

“Yes,” Peter mumbled. “We smell like we’ve staked claims on each other.”

“I take it that’s a good thing,” Stiles said, and Peter nodded. Stiles snuggled against his chest, humming. He liked the idea of belonging to Peter and Peter belonging to him, not as objects to be kept but people intertwined. They trusted each other with _everything_.

That gave Stiles a though. He lifted his head a bit, looking at Peter’s face. “Hey,” he said, and Peter gave a little ‘mm?’ in reply. “What would you have done if I hadn’t accepted you as a werewolf? If I’d freaked and run away?”

“I would have been terribly sad,” Peter said, and he didn’t sound like he was kidding. Stiles cuddled him a little harder.

“But what if I were an asshole and told people? I could have gotten a mob with pitchforks and torches and silver bullets and shit.” Stiles, of course, wouldn’t have, but Peter couldn’t have known that.

“Silver bullets don’t work any better than regular bullets.”

“Really? Damn.”

"Who would you have told?” Peter asked, nuzzling the top of Stiles’s head.

“The police, maybe? You know that my dad’s a sheriff. Definitely my friends.” He nodded decisively into Peter’s collarbone. 

“And what would you have said? ‘My boyfriend is a werewolf?’ They’d question your sanity far before my humanity.” Well, Peter had a point there.

“Okay, I get you,” Stiles conceded, drumming his fingers on Peter’s shoulder. Then he had another, less settling thought. “Have you told someone before? Another baby boy that went running?”

“No,” Peter said, rather firmly. “Only you.”

Stiles could have preened. He drew up his shoulders and grinned, feeling special and loved. Peter kissed his forehead, making him giggle.

"I guess I would have just lived with the knowledge then," Stiles said breezily, combing Peter’s chest hair with his nails. "Since there's no one to tell."

"Well, not _no one_ ," Peter said. Stiles shifted to blink at him curiously. "There are hunters."

"Hunters," Stiles said, nose screwing up. "Like the kind that want to wipe you off the planet?"

"Hardly. They're mostly around to keep the omegas in line."

"Oh look, more Greek." Stiles huffed. "What role in the pack to omegas play?"

"They don't," Peter replied. "They are wolves without packs. They are migratory, constantly on the move. And since they don't have a pack to ground them, they tend to lose themselves to the beast and go mad."

Stiles stopped making swirly designs with Peter’s chest hair. "That's sad." He didn’t want to think about a werewolf succumbing to insanity. They probably went rabid and were dangerous, otherwise they wouldn't need hunters to, well, _hunt them._ He hoped it didn’t happen often. 

He shifted and tilted his head up again. "Are there more Greek titles you haven't mentioned? Delta? Gamma? Uh, sigma? Zeta, kappa, theta?"

"Now you're just naming fraternities and sororities," Peter said, smiling in amusement. "No, I've told you all the roles."

Stiles gave a haughty sniff, before he planted his face in Peter's neck. "Good to know."

* * *

"So you have superhuman abilities, right?" Stiles asked after they’d finally left the bed, half of his mouth full of the best French toast he'd ever eaten. He grabbed his glass of orange juice and slurped some down.

Peter was eating with far more dignity. "I do, yes," he said, not looking up from his tablet where he was reading the Times on an app. He was so sophisticated sometimes that Stiles wanted to roll around on what he was doing and demand attention. Like an asshole cat.

“Super strength?” Stiles asked, pushing a piece of his toast around in a pool of syrup.

“Yes.”

“Could you lift me over your head?” Stiles was imagining Peter bench pressing him like a strongman. Maybe Stiles could sit on Peter’s back while the man did push ups. Oh man.

“I could do that without super strength,” Peter remarked lightly, glancing at Stiles, who frowned at him. “You weigh next to nothing.”

Grunting, Stiles shoved the last of his food into his face. He was totally ripped from lacrosse. Totes. “What about super hearing?” he asked, swirling his fingertip in the syrup and sticking it in his mouth to suck on.

Peter’s eyes went to Stiles’s mouth, and he took a second to answer, which delighted Stiles. “Yes. We can hone in on sounds at a distance, like a conversation happening across a football field.” He smiled. “We can also tell when someone is lying by listening to the heartbeat.”

Stiles let out an ‘ooo’ of awe. That was probably the coolest thing he’d ever heard. “Do you listen to my heart when I talk to you?”

“No,” Peter said, smiling a little wider. “I trust you. I do listen when you’re sleeping though.”

“Really?” Stiles asked, tilting his head.

“Yes,” Peter replied. “Your heart beat is faster than a normal resting rate.”

“Ah, yeah,” Stiles said, nodding. “That’d be the Adderall.” 

“I figured,” Peter agreed with a nod.

“What other super abilities do you have?” Stiles asked, shifting in his seat. This was like talking to a real live superhero. That he happened to be banging. “Do you have a super nose? I’ve noticed you like to sniff me.”

Peter pressed his lips into a line, looking a bit embarrassed. “I thought I was being subtle.” 

Stiles quirked an eyebrow. “Subtle is not shoving your face in my neck or my hair and taking a deep breath.”

Peter gave an indignant sniff.

“Do you have enhanced sight?” Stiles asked, shifting and folding his long legs in the chair. He could probably talk about this all day.

“Not distance,” Peter said. “But I see rather well in the dark.”

“No stubbed toes for you?” Stiles snickered.

“I’ve walked into things while being distracted,” Peter admitted with a smile. “I try not to do that.”

Honestly the mental image of Peter going careening over his coffee table because he was paying more attention to his iPad than his feet was enough to make Stiles giggle. "I trip over things even when I'm looking where I'm going. I've hip checked a doorknob in every building I've been in."

* * *

After breakfast they moved out into the Spring air on Peter’s balcony. Peter went over to the chairs, and Stiles went to the railing to look down at the people below. They were like colorful ants. Then he had a notion.

"Hey," he said, looking over at Peter, who was reclining against the cushions of the lounge chair, watching him. He let out a 'hm?' in reply. "Do you have super healing?"

"Yes," Peter said, smiling a little.

"Could you survive this fall?" Stiles asked, looking down at the street. It was a long ways down.

"I'm not the Hulk," Peter replied in a goodnaturedly teasing manner. "That fall would pulverize anyone."

"Not Captain America," Stiles countered with a sniff. "It might slow him down a little bit though."

Peter rolled his eyes. "You and Captain America, I swear."

"He's my favorite," Stiles huffed, moving over to Peter.

"I know. I've seen your Captain America boxers." Peter smiled and spread his legs a bit so Stiles could plop down between them.

"I've still not over when Bucky was like _but I knew him_. I cried. I could cry right now. Don't even get me started on _I'm with you 'till the end of the line._ I will drown us both." He flopped over against Peter’s chest, sighing as arms were wrapped around him. He nuzzled the bit of hair that Peter’s V-neck didn't cover.

Peter smooched the top of his head. 

"What kind of things can you heal?" Stiles asked, back on task. 

"Certain things heal almost instantly. Small cuts, bruises, welts and the like. They hurt, but only for an instant."

Stiles slowly tipped his head up, squinting at Peter. "Is that why the hickeys I give you don't stay?" Tricky bastard said he had tough skin.

Peter looked a bit embarrassed. "Yes. There is a way I could control my healing locally, but it is a difficult skill to learn."

"Bummer," Stiles said, because he liked the idea of Peter wearing his mark. But he could live with it as long as Peter attacked him on sight with hickeys.

"What about broken bones?" Stiles went on to ask.

"It depends on the area, but it usually takes a few minutes," Peter replied, running his hand up and down Stiles’s arm. "I fell out of a tree like a dumbass when I was fourteen and broke my leg. My father set it, and it was fine five minutes later. Not that I didn’t pitch a fit anyway."

Stiles chuckled. "Is your immune system hella badass too?"

"You could say that," Peter said with a sigh. "It's very difficult for me to catch diseases of any sort." Peter’s fingers danced up Stiles’s arm, and it was this side of ticklish.

Stiles wiggled and turned, leaning his back against Peter’s front. "What about your metabolism?" he asked, taking both of Peter’s hands and holding them against his chest. "You look like you work out, but I've never heard you say anything about a gym."

"I could eat whatever I want and never gain a pound," Peter replied calmly, and Stiles felt like biting his hand. "There is a downside to that though."

"Really? Do tell, because I see no con to that pro."

Peter laughed. "I can't get drunk," he said, and Stiles let out a mournful noise, because that fucking blew. "Drugs don't affect me either, any kind, legal or otherwise. I would have to dose myself with wolfsbane to feel anything, but I'd rather not poison myself to get wasted."

"Okay, that's lame. But don't worry, I will drink enough for the both of us." Stiles nodded, head moving against Peter’s chest.

"So generous." Peter laughed anyway.

* * *

It was about four when Stiles and Peter piled into Peter’s car to head to the outskirts of the city. They had enough chips, queso and salsa in the trunk to feed an army, which was Peter’s contribution to the family full moon get together. Stiles had been amazed at how much Peter had bought, and Peter just told him it took a lot to feed a group of werewolves, even as an appetizer.

Stiles was wildly excited, if a little scared. What if Peter’s family--pack--didn’t like him? What if they scoffed at how young Stiles was? He was half Peter’s age, after all. He hoped they didn’t think he was a gold digger. He gulped. God, if they knew.

“Hey,” Stiles said, looking over at Peter as he drove. Stiles bowed his eyebrows as Peter glanced at him.

Peter turned off the radio, which had been playing rock classics from the 80s for the past hour and a half. They'd been on the same long road, bordered by trees, for quite a while. “Yes?”

Stiles bit his lip and wrung his fingers, not sure how to say this without sounding ungrateful. “Um,” he tried, glancing everywhere before his eyes settled on Peter. “I think it’s time for you to… stop paying me money every week.”

Peter looked confused, looking from the road, to Stiles, to the road, to Stiles and then back at the road. “I don’t understand,” he said slowly, his eyebrows coming down to a point. “Did I do something to upset you? I didn’t mean to scare you with the whole werewolf thing--”

“No, no,” Stiles was quick to say, reaching over and touching Peter’s arm. “It’s nothing like that. I just…” He dropped his hands to his lap and sighed. “The whole reason that you’re paying me is so that I’ll be monogamous with you. You don’t need to do that anymore.”

Peter was quiet for a stretched out moment, before he pulled the car over onto the side of the road, gravel crunching under the tires. He stopped and turned off the car, turning towards Stiles. “Okay, what brought this on?” he asked, serious but not defensive. He reached over and took Stiles’s hand.

Stiles squeezed Peter’s fingers and looked down at his lap. “I don’t want anyone to think I’m taking advantage of you for your money,” he said, lifting his eyes to Peter’s. “I want to be with you, money or not.” The money was nice, sure. Spending absurd amounts of dollars on whatever the fuck he wanted was a luxury, and he liked it, but he could live without it. He was used to being the kid without money.

Peter turned his hand and laced their fingers together. “Stiles, paying you for exclusivity stopped being the point of the money months ago,” he told him, lifting their hands so he could kiss Stiles’s fingers. “I just want you to have everything you could possibly desire. It makes me happy when _you’re_ happy.”

Stiles sagged a little in his seat. “I know, but it still feels kind of skeevy after we’ve said ‘I love you’ and stuff, y’know? And especially after you told me your big secret. I just feel like we’re over the part of the relationship where you give me stupid amounts of money just ‘cause.”

Peter was silent a moment. "Are you worried what my family will think?" he asked.

Way to hit the nail on the head. Stiles swallowed and nodded. "They'll think I love you for your money, and I don't. I love you for you."

Peter turned so he could take both of Stiles’s hands in his. His hands were warm, comforting, and Stiles lifted his eyes to Peter’s face. "They wouldn't think that," Peter told him, rubbing his thumbs along the backs of Stiles’s hands. "But I will stop giving you money if it's what you really want."

Stiles nodded, a smile coming to his face. "It is."

Peter hummed, before he pulled Stiles closer with his grip on his hands and gave him a kiss. "Alright then. No more money transfers." He released Stiles’s hands and turned back to the road, starting the car up. "But I reserve the right to shower you with gifts at my discretion."

"Peter," Stiles laughed. "You'll just buy me everything you see!"

"I can show restraint," Peter countered, smiling as he drove. "Probably."

With a snort, Stiles looked back out the window. He was quiet for a while, just thinking. He eventually turned back to Peter. "Do they know about me? Your family?"

Peter snorted. "I wouldn't just show up with a human without warning," he said. "I told my sister all about you, and she told everyone else."

Nodding, Stiles let out an 'oooh' and looked back out the window.

They fell silent again, and Peter didn't bother with the radio. It was about another half hour when Stiles noticed something attached to a mile marker. He pressed his face to the window as they passed by it.

"Balloons," he said, pointing. He looked at Peter, who had a deep frown on his face. "Are there always balloons?"

"No," Peter said, and he sounded terribly displeased. "It means there's a surprise party."

Stiles blinked. "For whom?"

Peter didn't answer, just turned down a road. They came up to a large yard with picnic tables, a smoking grill, over a dozen people and a banner hanging above everything that said _Happy Birthday Peter!_

Stiles let out a gasp. "It's your birthday?!" he shrieked, looking over at Peter, who looked to be in a sour mood now. "Why didn't you tell me?" He gave Peter’s shoulder a shove. "I would have gotten you something."

"Ugh," was Peter’s opinion as he parked off the the side, next to several cars and one motorcycle. "I didn't tell you because I've stopped celebrating my birthday. As far as I'm concerned, I have been thirty-nine for five years." He huffed and got out of the car.

Stiles opened the car door then nearly choked himself on the seat belt, having forgotten all about it. He managed to get himself unbuckled and free from the car, walking around to help Peter get the food from the trunk. He was so excited, both because of Peter’s birthday and the crowd of people on the lawn, some of them watching them.

When Peter and Stiles set the chips and dip on one of the tables, a tiny girl toddled up to them. She had light brown skin, wide hazel eyes and black hair in two French braids. "Happy birfday, unca Peta," she said, before she put her hands up in the 'pick me up!' pose.

Stiles let out a high pitched, inhuman noise as Peter swung the little girl up onto his hip and gave her a loud smack of a kiss on the cheek. This gave him _feelings._ If he'd had ovaries, they would have been exploding.

"Did your dad tell you to say that?" Peter asked the toddler, and she nodded with a grin. "Well thank you, darling." He nuzzled her face with his, and she giggled, bringing up her hands to paw at him cheeks. Then Peter looked at Stiles. "This is Rebecca, my great-niece," he said. "Becky, this is Stiles."

"Hi," Becky said, putting out her hand in greeting. Stiles was screaming on the inside as he took her hand, giving it a little shake.

Stiles wanted five.

Becky wiggled until she was let down, and she ran over to a man with a near lumberjack beard and a black woman with a heavily swollen belly. Peter followed after her, and Stiles trailed behind, eager to be introduced and at the same time worried about forgetting English or farting really loudly and making a terrible first impression. As they came close, the man picked Becky up and blew a raspberry into her neck, causing her to let out a shrill sound.

"Hey, Peter," the man said, smiling at them. He had the same eyes as Becky, as well as adorable bunny teeth. 

Peter took Stiles’s hand in him, looking less annoyed now. "Stiles, this is my second nephew, Derek. And this is Braeden, his wife."

Derek shifted Becky over onto his other hip so he could shake Stiles’s hand. "Nice to meet you," he said.

"You too," Stiles said, a bit wobbly as he came to the very belated realization that he was surrounded by werewolves.

"Don't worry, no one's going to eat you," Braeden said, apparently sensing his worry, and he let out a grateful chuckle. If Stiles remembered correctly, she was human too. She had impressive scars running down her cheek and neck, and Stiles was dying to know how she got them. He couldn’t ask though.

"And whose idea was it to throw me a party?" Peter asked lightly, his eyes narrowed a little.

"Laura and Mom," Derek asked, looking like he wanted to stay the hell away from that backlash. "Dad and I made the cupcakes though. Your favorite." He was definitely trying to be on the right side when the yelling started.

"Hm," Peter replied, before he shrugged, a bit soothed. He looked to Stiles. "Let's make the rounds, shall we? Everyone is excited to meet you," he said, pulling him away, and Stiles nodded in agreement.

They next people he met were Laura, who was irrationally tall, and her husband, Stephen, a kind of stout man that was reigning the grill. They had two kids: Brandon, the first, was nine and a human, and their daughter was six and a wolf. Stephen was explaining what he did for a living when Laura turned around and shouted for her son to get the hell away from the dessert table or she would bite his fingers off.

Stephen asked Peter his opinion on the ribs that were smoking, leaving Stiles with Laura who waited a moment before she tossed her arm around Stiles’s shoulders, pulling him farther away. "So you're way cute," she told him in a hushed way, her head bent to his level. "Did my uncle kidnap you?"

"Uh," Stiles tried, eyes going a bit wide.

"See, my uncle's kind of shady, so I wouldn't put it past him to buy a boy off the Internet. Are you being coerced? Blink twice for yes."

Stiles’s eyes widened a bit more.

"Laura, please refrain from terrorizing Stiles," Peter said from right behind them.

Laura giggled. "I was just messing with him. Right, cutie?" She ruffled Stiles’s hair, before she looked over and started to yell in the general direction of her children.

Stiles retreated into Peter’s arms. "She was gonna eat me," he whined, very dramatic.

"Doubt it, human flesh isn't nearly as tasty as baby back ribs," Peter replied, before he pulled him toward more new people. 

He was introduced to Nathan, Peter’s oldest nephew, looked even more like a lumberjack than Derek, with a thick beard and a brown mane that was pulled up in a man bun. He was impossibly tall like Laura and picked Peter right up off of his feet, crushing him in a hug. He didn’t smoosh Stiles like a grape, thankfully, just gave him a hearty handshake. Nathan’s partner, Alex, was a werewolf from another pack that had joined the Hale pack not too long ago. They seemed to be in a honeymoon stage, because they kept giggling and touching each other's arms and face. It was cute and sickening at the same time.

He was introduced to a couple cousins. One couple had six children, all of them wolves. The children were chasing each other just past the treeline, shrieking 'you're it!'s and 'gonna get you!'s. 

Next was Cora, the youngest of Peter’s nieces. She was stuffing her face with cocktail shrimp and playing on her phone. She wiped her kind of sticky hand on her jeans and held it out to Stiles. "Nice to meet you," she said around a mouthful, and he shook her hand with a smile. "How old are you? You look my age."

"Twenty-two," Stiles replied. It had to come up sometime. 

Cora looked surprised as she swallowed. "You _are_ my age," she said, blinking, before she smirked. "Bet you've been running my dear old uncle in circles. Can he keep up with you? Or does he need frequent naps?"

Peter growled, and Cora growled right back, still smiling.

Stiles hugged Peter’s arm. "If there's anyone getting worn out, it's me. Often."

Cora clenched her eyes shut like she was fighting off a mental image. "Ew," she said, shaking her head. "I mean, I deserve that, but still. Ew." 

Peter was grinning like it was, well, his birthday, and he was getting all the good presents. He pressed a kiss to Stiles's cheek, before he looked around. "Where is your mother?" he asked, putting his arm around Stiles’s waist and pulling him close.

“Probably inside,” Cora said, shrugging. Then she held out the cocktail glass filled with shrimp and sauce to Stiles.

“Thanks,” Stiles said, taking one, before he waggled his fingers at Cora as Peter pulled him away. He liked her. He bet if he asked her about embarrassing stories featuring Peter, she’d deliver tenfold.

The house was amazing, two stories and wider than it was tall. The entryway had a large staircase, and Stiles kind of wanted to go snooping, but Peter had a hold on him. “Wow,” he said as they moved through the living room with its half moon of suede furniture, large TV and fireplace. The dining room was massive too, holding a long table with what had to be at least twenty chairs. Who needed that big of a table?

In the kitchen, which was huge and full of shiny appliances, there was a woman leaning against a counter and talking to a man that was latticing a pie. The room smelled like apple and cinnamon. They both looked over as Peter and Stiles came in. The woman smiled, moving over and opening her arms to them. Stiles stuttered, eyes going a little wide. You didn’t need to be a werewolf to know that this woman was _powerful._ She oozed a kind of majesty that said _I’m in charge._

If she noticed his hesitance, she didn’t say anything, just moved over and hugged him. “It’s good to finally meet you, Stiles,” she said, and when she pulled back she was right at Stiles’s height. “I’m Talia. Peter’s told me all about you.” 

“All lies, I assure you,” Stiles told her with a smile.

She laughed, giving his shoulders a squeeze. “He has only told me good things, promise. He’s told me about your major--marine biology, right?” When he nodded, she went on. “He also went into length about how cute you are, and I can see he wasn’t exaggerating. You do have adorable moles. Honestly when we talk he doesn’t shut up about you.” 

Peter had the good grace to look a little ashamed. Stiles kissed the corner of his mouth.

Stiles was introduced to Talia’s husband, Andrew, who shook his hand and then apologized for getting brown sugar on him. Eventually they moved back outside, where the sun was starting to go down and the yard was bathed in the light from the house. Talia broke out a pack of industrial strength, no bleed through paper plates, and everyone started piling them high with ribs, potato salad, green beans in butter and bacon and over heavy sides. 

Stiles noticed the chip bags, cheese and salsa they’d brought were almost all gone. Somehow. How long had they been here?

Eating all together was a loud affair. All of the kids had things to say, and it was difficult to hear someone the first time around. Peter managed to feed Stiles a few bites off his fork, before Cora wailed that they were being gross and she was going to throw up on them. She even made gagging sounds as Peter licked a bit of BBQ sauce off of the edge of Stiles’s mouth.

Stiles ate far more than he should have, but it was so _good_. When he voiced his pleasure, everyone was in a hurry to tell him that it was Nathan’s pork rub that made the ribs the best. After that, Derek and Andrew brought out two large platters of cupcakes, and all the kids got excited.

Singing _Happy Birthday To You_ to Peter had Stiles in stitches two verses in. Everyone was trying to sing as loudly and as obnoxiously as possible. Talia had put a party hat on Peter at some point, and he looked none too pleased. When the song was over, Peter blew out the candle on his cupcake, and everyone cheered. 

Stiles took the hat off of Peter’s head and leaned in to give him a kiss. “Happy birthday,” he told him with a smile, and Peter murmured an _I love you ___against his mouth.

Stiles wasn’t allowed to help clean up after everyone. Talia told him he was a guest and that he was not allowed to help with the clean up. Instead he went to watch the kids. The young wolves all had their shifted faces on, playing an aggressive game of tag under the moonlight. He watched them until Peter came up and hugged him from behind, nuzzling his neck.

"So what did you wish for?" Stiles asked, turning in Peter embrace to face him. "Anything good?"

Peter hummed in consideration. "If I tell you, it won't come true, now will it?" He bumped their noses together, and Stiles giggled. Then Peter kissed him, a kind of kiss that usually led to other things.

Stiles pulled back as much as he could while being held, laughing softly and covering Peter’s mouth with his hand. "Whoa there, big guy. Do full moons make you horny or something?"

Peter licked his palm, grinning as Stiles pulled it away and wiped it on his hoodie. "Or something," Peter purred, leaning in for another kiss. Stiles let him, but not for long. "I've never had a lover around during a full moon before. It makes me want to pin you to the ground and lick you all over."

"You can do that when we get home," Stiles huffed, wriggling out of Peter hold. Then he blinked as Peter grinned at him like a goof. "You high over there?" he asked with a snort.

"You called my apartment 'home'," he said, his smile growing. 

Stiles blinked, before he smiled too. "Yeah, I did." Then he put out his arms when Peter went to grab him again. "Down, boy." 

That made Peter laugh. "You are allotted one dog joke a year, and you just wasted it."

Stiles snorted. "Aw, shucks," he said, snapping his fingers. "I guess I'll have to stick around until next year."

Peter looked like he was about to say something, but he stopped and looked over as Talia came out of the house in nothing but a bathrobe. "Thank you all for coming tonight. It's good to be surrounded by family and friends." She undid her belt and let her robe drop to the ground, and Stiles’s eyes widened in surprise. "Let’s go be wolves."

At that, all of the adults started undressing as well. Stiles's head whipped this way and that, and every direction he looked, there were genitals, so he looked up at the sky. The moon was shining bright, taunting him. _Why?_ he wanted to ask it. He closed his eyes as there was growling and grunting and other sounds that didn't sound comfortable at all. He turned to ask Peter what this was all about. Were his family streakers? He stopped dead, eyes going even wider.

Instead of Peter, next of him stood a wolf that was almost as tall as he was. It had blue-black fur and blue eyes. It stared back at him, almost tranquil.

"Peter?" Stiles asked, breathless. The wolf nodded, and Stiles’s hands flew to his mouth. "That's why everyone was getting naked." He glanced around and found more wolves, all different colors. He could guess that Talia was the biggest black wolf, the first to head off into the woods, followed by her pack. 

Peter didn't follow though. Instead he bumped his muzzle against Stiles’s stomach, causing him to let out an _oof_. Peter did it again, and Stiles grabbed his head, fingers sinking into his black fur. Did Peter want to be petted? Is that why he kept nudging Stiles?

"He wants you to run so he can chase you," came Braeden's voice, and Stiles looked over. She was sitting on the plush porch swing with a sleeping Becky using her lap as a pillow. 

"Oh," Stiles said, looking back at Peter. "Is that what you want? For me to run?"

Peter let out a soft wuff.

Stiles smiled, rubbing Peter’s ears with his thumbs. "Okay, but you have to give me a head start," he told him, and Peter nodded. "Count to fifty then come find me, okay?" Another nod. Stiles gave his soft ears one more pet, before he ran off into the trees.

It had been a while since Stiles had sprinted like this, probably since lacrosse practice. He had good legs from biking, and a full on sprint was better than running suicides. He only stumbled a couple times when his feet caught on the forest floor. He ran and ran until his chest ached for air, before he slowed down to a jog. He looked over his shoulder to see if Peter was anywhere near him, before he shrieked as he was bowled over by a huge wolf.

Stiles hit the first floor with a gasp, before blinking up at Peter, who was looming over him. "Was that good?" he asked, and Peter wuffed again with a nod of his large head. "Okay, let me rest a second, then I'll go again."

He reached up and felt around Peter’s face, feeling the bone structure underneath. He poked at Peter’s lips, and Peter helpfully drew them up like he was snarling, showing off the frightening teeth underneath. "That's so cool," he said, before he smoothed down Peter’s lips again. His whiskers were short and pokey. 

Once Stiles got his breath back, he ran off again, leaving Peter in the dust. Though less than a minute later he was tackled. They did this for a time that he couldn't begin to measure. The moon was moving across the sky, and Stiles wanted to keep going, but his limbs stopped wanting to work. He collapsed to the forest floor and panted, feeling worn out. Peter stood over him, gazing down at him with glowing blue eyes.

"I think I'm gonna have to tap out," Stiles said, breathing hard. He was going to be so sore later. He forced himself into a sitting position, and Peter nudged him with his cold, damp nose. Stiles chuckled and gave that nose a pinch, which got his face licked by a long, slimy tongue. "Gross," he said, wiping his face and climbing to his feet. He took a lot of effort, and he groaned. He patted Peter’s head. "I have no idea where I am. You're going to have to lead me to civilization."

Peter huffed, before he turned a different direction. Stiles figured that was the way to the house, so he started heading that way. He didn't realize Peter moved behind him until suddenly he had a wolf head between his legs and was being lifted up. He flailed as he slid down Peter’s neck and settled behind his shoulder blades, holding onto handfuls of his fur.

"Oh my god," he breathed out, before laughter bubbled out of his throat. "This gives a whole new meaning to riding you."

Peter looked back at him and heaved a huff. Then he started to move, a walk at first as they adjusted to each other. Then he moved into a trot, then a lope. Soon they were flying through the forest, and Stiles couldn’t hold back his wild laughter. The air whipped at his clothes and face, sharp and almost painful, but so damn exhilarating. He could feel Peter’s body between his tightly clenched legs, rolling in his run. He was panting, heart pounding against Stiles’s inner thighs.

This was an experience of a lifetime.

They came across other wolves as they moved through the forest. They all came up the Stiles and Peter, bumping their heads against Peter’s neck and Stiles’s thigh. One light brown wolf with deep brown eyes came up and caught Stiles’s shoelace in its teeth, tugging it free before it bounded off with its tail up high, letting out the weirdest imitation of laugher Stiles had ever heard.

Stiles huffed, looking after the wolf. "Was that Laura?" he asked, leaning down to shove his shoelaces down on either side if his ankle. He'd tie it again later.

Peter nodded with a chuff of air.

"What a dork," Stiles said, smiling.

He was pretty sure he saw Derek and Cora too, both of them black like their mother. Speaking of, Talia came sauntering closer, and Peter bared his neck for her to nuzzle. When Talia looked at Stiles, he did the first thing that came to his head, which was to mimic Peter and lie down with his neck presented to the alpha. She sniffed him, before she gave his skin the tiniest nip.

Stiles opened his eyes, not realizing he closed them, before he gave Talia a smile. "Thank you," he said, and she nodded before turning to trot away, the other wolves following after her. He looked at Peter, who sniffed before he worked up his gait to a run, heading through the first again.

Eventually Peter slowed again, and Stiles could see the house through the trees. "Not yet," Stiles said, and Peter halted, looking back at him. "I'm not done enjoying my Princess Mononoke moment."

Peter’s ear twitched at that.

"Have you seen it?" Stiles asked, and Peter shook his head. "Looks like you and I are having a Miyazaki film marathon someday." He laid down across Peter’s back, hugging him around his thick neck. His fur was so soft. Stiles rubbed his face against it. “I love my big furry Daddy,” he said, soft like a sigh.

Peter shifted and sat down, and Stiles slid down his back like a slide, squeaking. Then Peter laid down, crossing his paws like a majestic beast. Stiles crawled around him and leaned against his shoulder. He dug his fingers into his neck fur and scratched. Peter huffed and set his head on his paws.

“You’re so dramatic,” Stiles told him, and Peter’s ear twitched. “Saving this form from me until the moment it would have the most effect. I could have run away screaming and gotten lost in the woods.” At that Peter turned his head and gave Stiles a silent look. Stiles withered and started stroking his ears. “You’re right, I wouldn’t have. You know me too well.”

Stiles shifted and set his hand on Peter’s long snout, giving it a scratch. Peter let out a rumbling sound and lifted his nose into the touch a bit. “Bet you always get an itch there and have to rub your face against a tree to get it, huh?” he asked, smiling as Peter huffed out a breath. “That doesn’t sound fun at all.”

Going quiet as he continued to pet Peter, Stiles had to think about how he got here. How different would his life had been if he hadn’t stumbled upon FetLife all those months ago? He and Peter would never have met, and Stiles wouldn’t have been nearly as happy as he was now. Things were perfect, if a little crazy. He closed his eyes and sighed, still running his hand over Peter’s fur.

When he woke up, it was because his pillow was moving. He grunted and straightened up, blinking in the low light. It looked like the sun was starting to peek over the tops of the trees. How long had he been asleep? He looked at Peter, who was standing now, shaking out his fur and licking his chops. Peter gave him a look, before he nudged Stiles with his nose.

“Alright, alright, I’m getting up,” he said, pulling himself to his feet and running a hand through his unkempt hair. He wanted to drape over Peter and use him as transportation. But Peter was probably tired of being a big fluffy pony for Stiles, so he just hugged him around his neck. “I’m so ready for sleep.”

Peter let out a wuff that was probably agreement, before he started moving toward the house. Stiles kept a hand on his neck, walking next to him, feeling calmer than he had in a long, long time. He couldn’t explain it, and for once he didn’t feel the need to.

When they reached the house, Peter trotted over to one of the picnic table where his clothes were waiting. Watching him transform back into a human was amazing. His bones realigned, his fur disappeared, and he stood up on two legs instead of four. He grabbed his pants and started to pull them on. No underwear, of course. He looked sleepy in a satisfied kind of way.

“Does that hurt?” Stiles asked, and Peter looked at him. “Changing like that?” In every werewolf movie or TV show he’d watched, the shift had been horribly painful. Though, in all of those examples, the characters had been fighting the shift. Maybe it didn’t hurt when it was welcome.

“No,” Peter said, doing up the button of his pants before zipping. “Every change is like a gesture.” He moved closer to Stiles, touching his hip. “It’s like waking up from a long sleep and stretching out your body.”

“So it feels good?” Stiles asked, smiling and moving further into Peter’s space. They were almost close enough to kiss. 

“Yes,” Peter said, his eyes flicking down to Stiles’s mouth then back up. “It’s always there, my wolf. It’s always in the back of my mind.”

“Is it happy that it got to come out?” Stiles asked, biting his lip and taking a deep breath of Peter’s scent. He smelled like grass and dirt, so earthy. Stiles could only imagine what he smelled like himself. 

“Always,” Peter replied with a nod, before he pressed a small kiss to Stiles’s lips. “It’s even happier that you’re here.” 

“Yeah?” Stiles asked, putting his arms around Peter’s neck. “Why’s that?”

Peter bumped their noses together. “Because it sees you as its mate. And I have to agree.”

Stiles giggled, dragging his bottom lip through his teeth. “Well, it should know that I’m hella happy to be here so I can cuddle a big fuzzy wolf.”

Peter snorted. “I want you to be here for the next full moon, and the next, and the next. I know it won’t be possible with our schedules, but I want to try.” He laced his fingers at the small of Stiles’s back. “I want you here forever.”

Biting his lip, Stiles leaned his forehead against Peter’s, feeling warm and giddy all of the sudden. “Forever, huh? That’s a long time.”

“Didn’t you hear?” Peter murmured to him, shifting so he lips trailed lightly over Stiles’s cheek to his ear. “Wolves mate for life.”

Stiles tried not to laugh, but it was so damn _corny_ that he just couldn’t help himself. He descended into a giggle fit that had Peter huffing at him and telling him it wasn’t funny. It just made Stiles laugh harder. Eventually Peter’s serious face broke, and he joined in, laughing alongside Stiles. They tried to kiss, still shaking, but that was funny too, and their laughter got louder, echoing off the trees and the side of the house.

It took them a while, but Peter eventually went to put on his shirt and shoes. There was a note in one of the shoes, one that said ‘For Stiles’. Peter handed it over, and Stiles opened it, finding a bunch of names and numbers written there. He grinned as he held it against his chest. It was awesome.

“What did you expect?” Peter asked lightly when he was all dressed again. “You’re pack now.”

Stiles let out a sound that could only be called a squee.

* * *

**Epilogue**

“Oh my God,” Lydia said, and then a louder, “ _Oh my God!_ ”

“Is that good or bad?” Stiles asked.

Lydia shrieked, launching herself at Stiles and hugging him far tighter than should have been possible from a tiny woman. “This is great!” she said, drawing back and looking back at her case of all new, runway approved makeup. “I can’t believe they just gave you this!”

“That’s not all,” Stiles said, digging through his bag and finding the cardboard reinforced envelope. Thankfully it didn’t get bent on the plane ride home. “Here.” He handed it over to her.

She set the makeup down and took the envelope, opening it up and widening her eyes at what she found. “Oh my God!” she screamed again, holding the autographed picture of Jesse Moore delicately.

Stiles laughed as Lydia wigged out, before he went to look through his bag again. His other roommates were standing around him, curious what else he had. He’d told Scott all about the trip on the ride to the apartment, and he planned on tell everyone else too.

Minus the werewolf part, of course.

He found the silver blouse with the black lace back and held it out to Allison, who took it with a gasp. “It’s so pretty!” she said, before she held it to her chest. “I’m going to try it on!” She hurried into the bedroom she shared with her boyfriends, and Scott followed after her, stating he wanted to watch.

Isaac looked like he was pretending he didn’t care there was nothing for him, but there was a hardness to the set of his mouth that betrayed his true feelings. So Stiles ‘hm’ed and ‘ha’ed as he shifted his things in his bag. “Looks like that might be it,” he said, glancing at Isaac, who pouted. “Oh, what’s this!” Stiles pulled out the scarf, starting at one end and pulling and pulling like he was a magician revealing a sleeve full of handkerchiefs. “It’s a scarf!” He held it up in the air, and Isaac looked excited. “For you.” He handed it over.

Isaac rubbed his face with the scarf. “Thanks, dude,” he said, and that was equivalent to a tight hug from Scott or a kiss on the cheek from Lydia. 

Stiles gave him a thumbs up. “No prob.”

* * *

“You’re going to love Erica,” Stiles said, probably for the tenth time. He and Peter were heading to a munch, and Stiles was excited to introduce his Daddy to his friends. Erica had screamed in all caps when he’d told her he was bringing Peter to the April 1st munch. She told him that if he was playing a prank, she was going to eat his eyes.

They parked on the street and headed around the house where all the noise was. The yard was full of people, some of them dancing to what sounded like Maroon 5, lots of them playing in a pool, and the rest conversing on the patio where there was a smoking grill with what smelled like burgers cooking.

Alexis, the munch hostess, spotted them and hurried over, grinning. She had a plate of drinks that she managed not to spill. “Hey, guys!” she said, putting her sunglasses up into her hair. “It’s great that you could make it, Stiles.” She looked at Peter, adjusting her tray of drinks and holding her hand out to him. “You must be the famous Peter.”

“Oh, am I famous?” Peter asked, taking her hand and lifting it so he could kiss the back of it. “Good to know.”

Alexis gave a loud giggle, covering her mouth with her hand once she got it back. “We’ve only been waiting to meet you for ages,” she said, before she tsked at him. “Glad to know you’re not just a sexy hallucination.”

Peter gave a winning smile. “Famous _and_ sexy. I’m liking my reputation.”

Alexis made a sound like ‘pff’. “You hush, and go mingle. I know Erica and Boyd will want to see you both.” She gave them a waggling finger wave, before she went to greet a different couple that had just arrived.

It didn’t take them long to find Erica and Boyd. They were in the pool, Boyd standing almost in the very deep end with Erica on his shoulders. She screamed and flailed when she saw them, and Boyd shuffled over to the edge so she could climb out and tackle Stiles. She got him all wet, but that was fine. He was wearing an old t-shirt and his swim trunks with sandals. The munch invite had stated clearly that it was a pool party.

“Hey, guys!” Erica said, releasing Stiles and holding him at arm’s length. “It’s so great to see you!” She turned to Peter and held out her hand. “I’m Erica. You must be Peter!”

“Nice to meet you,” Peter said, shaking her hand. “I’ve heard wonderful things about you.”

Erica giggled and swatted at him gently. Boyd came up behind her, and she gestured to him. “This is my Daddy, Boyd.” She indicated to Peter. “This is Stiles’s Daddy, Peter.”

Boyd extended his hand. “How’s it going?”

“Good,” Peter said, giving his hand a shake.

“Okay, enough of that, let’s get into the pool!” Erica almost shouted, turning and grabbing Boyd’s arm to drag him to the water.

Stiles looked at Peter, who looked back, and with a silent agreement they tugged off their shirts and kicked off their shoes, before they jogged to the water. Stiles jumped and curled in on himself, hitting the water like a cannonball. He laughed as he surfaced, before he squeaked as he was caught around the middle by Peter’s strong arms and lifted off his feet to be dunked.

He ended up on Peter’s shoulders, squaring off with Erica, who was on Boyd’s shoulders. They were almost the same height, Boyd being a good five inches taller than Peter but Erica being at least two or three inches shorter than Stiles. Erica and Stiles locked hands, pushing and tugging and trying to unseat each other. Erica was a lot stronger than she looked, and Stiles had noodles for arms, so it was no surprise when Stiles fell right off of Peter’s shoulders.

They ended up on the long lawn chairs with fruity drinks. Boyd was massaging Erica’s feet as Peter was slathering Stiles’s pale skin with sun block. Stiles and Erica looked at each other, before Stiles held up his fist. Erica laughed a little, before she bumped her fist against his. 

This was the life.

* * *

Stiles completed his Bachelor of Science degree, and he was elated. He got to walk across a stage and pull his hat’s tassel to the other side. He shook hands with the dean and got his picture taken, smiling hard enough to break his face. 

At the end of the ceremony, everyone threw their hats into the air, shouting. Stiles caught a hat, and it turned out to belong to someone he’d had a class with. He found her and gave her the hat, before he went hunting for his own. Another classmate of his found him and gave it over, along with a hug.

Free from the madness, Stiles went out of the building and looked for his pals. He found them, all laughing with each other and riding the high of celebration. He ran to him, jump-hugging Scott, who laughed and spun him around in a circle. When he was put on his feet, he crushed everyone else in hugs. Isaac even let him.

Stiles’s dad and Jordan walked up to them, and Stiles got squished by his father, who was trying and failing not to cry. They exchanged ‘I love you’s, before Stiles looked around. In the crowd he spotted Peter, who was standing back and probably trying to give them space. Peter smiled at him, and Stiles ran to him, jumping into his arms and knocking him back a couple steps.

“God am I happy you’re here,” Stiles whispered.

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” Peter murmured into his ear. “I have something for you.”

“What?” Stiles asked, stepping back so Peter could present him with a card or something.

But Peter just took his hand and led him away from everyone toward the parking lot. Stiles kept looked around, confused as to where they were going. Maybe his present was in the trunk of the cruiser, which Stiles and John had taken to the ceremony. But John would never give Peter his keys. Peter had taken a cab, so maybe it was waiting for them.

Stiles was about to ask what was going on, but then Peter moved behind him and lifted his hands to cover his eyes. He immediately stuttered his steps, even more confused. “Peter,” he said, lifting his hands to grab Peter’s wrists. “What are you doing?”

Peter hushed him affectionately. “We’re almost there.”

“Is it a dinosaur?” Stiles asked with a laugh, his hands sliding down Peter’s arms and sides to settle on his hips. 

“Yes, definitely a dinosaur,” Peter told him with a chuckle, continuing to walk and lead Stiles through the lot. 

Stiles was ready to pull Peter’s hands off and demand what was going on, but Peter removed his hands before he could. Stiles blinked at the sudden invasion of lot lighting, rubbing his eyes. He looked straight ahead and was confused. There were a few cars. That blue Jeep was kind of amazing and totally his style, but… wait.

“No,” he said in a voice of disbelief. “You didn’t…” He turned and looked at Peter. “Did you?”

Peter dug a key with a clicker out of his pocket and set it in Stiles’s hand, just smiling at him.

“Oh… my God, you did,” he whispered, staring down at the key. “Oh my God.” He pointed the clicker at the car and hit the lock button. The lights on the car flashed and it beeped twice. “ _Oh my God!_ ” Stiles ran to the car and unlocked it, opening the driver’s side and climbing in. “Holy fucking shit balls!”

The passenger door opened, and Peter climbed in. “Do you like it?” he asked with that smug smile of his.

Stiles didn’t answer in words, instead crawled over the center console and into Peter’s lap to kiss the hell out of him. That was impressive, given he was wearing a damn graduation gown. “I love it,” he said, pressing the words into Peter’s lips. “You big asshole, you.” At Peter’s laugh, he smiled. “Let’s go somewhere dark and private and christen the backseat.” 

“A hell of an idea,” Peter agreed.

* * *

Stiles loved his car, loved being able to go place that were out of biking distance without having to beg Allison to borrow her car. He named the Jeep Nightwing and ordered some stickers for it. First there was the one that said ‘Engineered by Firefly.’ He’d almost bought the one that said ‘Shiny’ too, but that would have been overkill. There was also the sticker of a biohazard symbol with the words ‘Zombie Outbreak Response Team” around it. 

Lastly, there was the sticker that was a made out of two, cut in halves and rearranged. The original stickers had said ‘Mama’s Boy’ and ‘Daddy’s Girl,’ but the way he fixed them, they said ‘Daddy’s Boy.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [Mass_Hipgnosis](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mass_hipgnosis) for the idea to have Laura be a total troll.
> 
> Another thank you to [WhatTheHale](http://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthehale) for all the betaing she did. 
> 
> If you ever wanna watch a werewolf movie where JR Bourne has baaaad hair, watching Ginger Snaps Back: The Beginning. Or, if you want to see him cut in half, watch 13 Ghosts. :D
> 
> I hope everyone enjoyed this totally fluffy story. It was a lot of fun to write!
> 
> Come say hi to me at my [Tumblr.](http://thesushiowl.tumblr.com/) 8>


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